


It's Daylight, It's Still You

by LaceyAmethyst



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Football | Soccer, Goose is alive, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wolf is oblivious, i have no clue what this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-10-01 19:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyAmethyst/pseuds/LaceyAmethyst
Summary: “Who’s the guy with frosted tips?” Maverick scoffed. Frosted tips, yeah, but also not a hair out of place, and fierce blue eyes that made Maverick feel cornered and high all at once. Maverick swept the thought from his mind.Goose maneuvered around him and followed his gaze.“Wow, you sure know how to pick out the best from a crowd,” Goose whistled. “That’s Ice. Iceman. Top scorer last year, in line to be the first sophomore to make vice-captain… That’s the guy you’ll be competing with for top spot, sucker. Think you can take him?”(aka. the Top Gun Football (ie. Soccer) AU that no one asked for)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m straight up inventing norms because it suits me so in this world “callsigns” are a normal thing in football – everyone has a nickname that you get when you first start playing the sport. I did this mostly because it felt too weird writing “Pete” instead of “Maverick” lol 
> 
> Football here refers to European football, not American football
> 
> Also also, I’m very new to this fandom and this was written on a semi-whim so if you think something doesn’t make sense it’s probably because it doesn’t, my bad

* * *

Of course the sky had to split in half and let the rain pour down like a flood the moment Maverick sped down the road heading away from his dorm building. 

_Wear somethin’ nice, you know? Look like you care, _Goose had told him.

Maverick had a way of disappointing Goose without even trying, but really, now was not one of those times. This time he’d actually made an effort _not _to disappoint his Goose. He’d put on a pair of khakis instead of his regular frayed jeans, he’d made some attempt at smoothing his hair back, and he was wearing cologne. _Cologne. _All of which had probably been washed off by the onslaught of the storm, but _really, _this time he’d – for once – made his best effort not to let his closest friend down. 

_And bring a raincoat. Carole says it’s supposed to pour later._

Yeah, okay, maybe this was partially his fault. He’d never been the best listener.

The rain had subsided only marginally by the time Maverick reached the parking lot of the main administrative building on campus. Once inside, he shook his head like a wet dog, sending water spraying like broken glass across the immaculately shined floors. A woman, dressed in a pinstripe blazer and heels that made a sharp _click, click, click, _sound tutted at Maverick disapprovingly as she walked past him and through the sliding doors back into the storm.

He caught a brief glimpse of himself in the window as he hurried down the hall. He didn’t look that bad, right? Just a little rain, Goose would understand, and—

“Well look what the storm dragged in,” came a familiar voice.

Goose was leaning against a pillar, looking at Maverick with a barely suppressed grin on his face. He looked clean-shaven, and his patterned blue shirt had been ironed crisp. No doubt Carole’s doing. When Maverick gave him his best _I’m sorry _face, Goose’s face split into a big grin, and he brought him in for a hug. 

“Carole owes me a twenty,” Goose said. “I told her you’d show up soaking when I saw the rain, but she insisted you’d remember to bring a raincoat if you were going to take your bike.”

“You’d think she knows me better than that,” Maverick laughed.

Goose shrugged. “What can I say, my woman’s an optimist. Sees the best in all men, even dorks like you.”

Goose dodged a finely timed swipe.

“So, why are we here again?” Maverick joked, surveying his surroundings. 

“You know why we’re here,” Goose said, shrugging. “The coaching staff is hosting a meet-up, so all the hopefuls—that’s you—”

“Is that now?” Maverick said, pulling an expression of mock-surprise. “I thought you said I had this in the bag.”

This time, Maverick dodged Goose’s finely timed swipe. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he barked, stuttering over his own laughter. “I was _saying_—they’re hosting a meet up so all the hopefuls can meet the team.”

“I’ve met one member of the team,” Maverick snickered, punching Goose in the shoulder playfully. “Not sure it makes me want to meet more.”

“Oh my God, I’m already sick of you and it’s only your first day here,” Goose whined, practically dragging Maverick down the hallway. “And I don’t count.”

“What?”

“Meeting me doesn’t count as meeting someone on the team,” Goose said. “I warm the bench. They only let me play last year because Jester was injured so they really had no choice. So now you get to meet the _team _team. The real deals.”

Maverick snorted. 

“Humble as ever, Mav,” Goose rolled his eyes. As they rounded the corner, Goose stopped suddenly and looked down at Maverick. “I’m glad you’re here, man. Now we get to do this college thing together. And let me tell you—after last year, I wasn’t jazzed about not having you around.” 

Maverick smiled up at Goose and a wave of happiness rushed through him. 

“You know I always used to copy you when we were little,” Maverick laughed, slinging an arm around his taller friend. “You had to have known I’d follow you to Miramar. Where you go, I go.” 

“You say that to all the girls?”

“You sure know how to ruin a moment, huh?” Maverick sighed. 

As Goose led him down a long hallway, lined with pictures of student athletes, scholars, students in classrooms looking disturbingly alert – really, every generic picture of a happy college student one could think up – Maverick’s mind drifted off. He thought of how different this was from his last school. He’d spent his freshman year “bumming it out,” as Goose playfully called it, at Hedgestone College on the other side of the country. But Goose would never joke about it outside of the two of them. He knew what hell Maverick had gone through in high school, having all of his college applications denied because of his father’s indictment and subsequent conviction. Offers from college football recruiters had dropped like flies; despite his own reputation as a striking prodigy, one whiff of his father’s crimes and no one wanted anything to do with him. Hedgestone had only accepted him because they accepted everybody, and his first year there was nothing short of torturous. The college didn’t even have a football team.

He’d gotten out of Hedgestone by the skin of his teeth. He still couldn’t believe he was now here, at Miramar, one of the most highly rated universities in the country, with one of the most prestigious football teams, no less. Somehow the football team’s coaching staff had agreed to take a chance on him and approved his transfer. Either that, or maybe Goose really had managed to annoy the Admissions Office enough for them to let it slide. (_I went there every day for six months just to advocate for you, Mav. I swear to God they nearly expelled me on the spot._)

Ironically, it was his father’s reputation that landed him at Hedgestone, and his own reputation that had gotten him out. Thank god he was as good at football as he was. 

“Okay we’re here,” Goose said. “Don’t embarrass me,” he added, putting on the goofiest smile Maverick had ever seen. He repressed a snide comment.

Maverick followed Goose through the glass doors and into a large, pristinely lit room. There was a podium on one end, a few high tops scattered around, and a truck load of people mingling. It was noisy – people talking over each other in haughty voices and overly-eager exclamations, and Maverick could almost feel the greenness in the room. The hopefuls were hungry. And chatty. Maverick saw one boy—_definitely a freshman, _he thought—practically running over to greet a group of team members, all of whom were dressed in their maroon varsity jackets. The boy had a grin on his face that made Maverick want to laugh in his face. 

“Goose!” 

Maverick and Goose swung around in unison at the sound. A man with sandy brown hair styled to perfection, dressed sharp in his varsity jacket, emerged from behind a group of people. 

“Forget your jacket?” he laughed. 

“Yeah, and the memo,” Goose said, having the decency to look guilty. “We were supposed to wear them? Mine doesn’t fit right.”

“Yeah, Wolf’s doesn’t either, hey where did he go, he was just—oh! Wolf!” the brunet said, pulling another man out of the crowd. 

“Yo,” he said, his voice dragging in a southern drawl. He was wearing a red necktie and he had aviators propped up on his head. The jacket he was wearing was easily two sizes too big. His eyes lit up when he saw Goose. “_Goose!_”

Goose laughed at the man’s animated expression and brought him in for a hug.

“And who’re you?” the first brunet asked, turning to Maverick.

“Oh! Darn, Carole warned me I’d be bad at remembering to introduce you,” Goose sighed, wincing. “Guys, this is Pete Mitchell, my roommate and team hopeful. Mav, this is Hollywood, and Wolfman. Wood’s a striker, Wolf plays on the wing.” 

“Mav?” Wolf asked.

“Yeah, my callsign’s Maverick,” Maverick responded, shaking both their hands with a smile. 

Both men froze as soon as the words left Maverick’s mouth. They glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

“There a problem?” Maverick asked slowly.

“Nope!” Wolf said immediately, and loudly, looking all too guilty.

Hollywood glanced at his teammate and barely suppressed a roll of the eyes. He looked back at Maverick.

“We’ve heard… lots about you,” he said. “Excited to see what you’ve got at tryouts.” 

“What exactly have you heard?” Maverick asked, raising an eyebrow. He could feel Goose’s worried eyes trained on him but he was never one to heed a warning.

“Nothin’,” Wolf said, once again much too loudly, his eyes betraying his nerves. “Just that, you know…”

Maverick tilted his head. “What’s that?”

Hollywood interjected to save his flailing teammate.

“You were top scorer on the East Coast your senior year of high school,” he said quickly. “There was a lot of buzz about you last year, that’s all.”

Right. Lots of buzz before his father’s indictment. Before it all went to hell.

But Maverick wasn’t new to this. He was used to people whispering behind his back at Hedgestone, once they’d gotten wind of who he was. He was used to the not-so-subtle glances directed his way, the never-ending attention like a target on his back. He thrived on it – well, it was either that or let it hurt him, but he was Maverick fucking Mitchell, and he’d been through enough not to let strangers get to him. 

He put on the best smile he could and let out a chuckle. This seemed to ease Wolf’s nerves, though he’d spared Hollywood a worried look. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Maverick said. “Though I’m never short of it.”

Goose, thankfully, had seen the train-wreck of a conversation for long enough and excused both himself and Maverick. Luckily Hollywood seemed to be much less oblivious than his Southern companion and shot Goose a smile as if to say _whoops, sorry, _before strategically maneuvering himself and Wolf back into the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” Goose said, sighing. 

Maverick shrugged. “Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” 

“I guess, but it still sucks. Hollywood and Wolf are good people, though. They’re not dicks like some of the others on the team.” 

As Goose poured himself a cup of water from the table of refreshments, Maverick surveyed the room again. 

“Trying to figure out who the best is?” Goose said knowingly. “I can tell you, you know.”

“I think I can figure it out on my own,” Maverick teased, smirking. 

His eyes flickered to one corner of the room, where a group of team members were gathered. Maverick could see Hollywood and Wolf make their way into the group, Wolf instantly laughing out loud at someone’s no doubt god-awful joke. Maverick’s eyes fell on one member of the group who hadn’t cracked a smile at the joke, but whose eyes flickered with what Maverick could best describe as passive amusement. He was blond, and the ashen tone of his hair showed off the tan that Maverick could see from all the way across the room. He’d popped the collar of his varsity jacket, and he was taking occasional sips out of his can of sparkling water. Unlike his boisterous company, he was calm, calculated, assured. 

Maverick felt something in him shift, and he frowned. 

“Who’s the guy with frosted tips?” Maverick scoffed. Frosted tips, yeah, but also not a hair out of place, and fierce blue eyes that made Maverick feel cornered and high all at once. Maverick swept the thought from his mind. 

Goose maneuvered around him and followed his gaze.

“Wow, you sure know how to pick out the best from a crowd,” Goose whistled. “That’s Ice. Ice_man. _Top scorer last year, in line to be the first sophomore to make vice-captain… That’s the guy you’ll be competing with for top spot, sucker. Think you can take him?” 

“No prize for second place. Piece of cake,” Maverick smirked, but even as the words came out of his mouth he felt his eyes drifting back to the blond. 

“You’re going to love it here, Mav,” Goose said, sighing as he leaned back against the table behind him. 

Maverick finally pulled his gaze away from the blond—_Ice—_and gave Goose a lopsided smile.

“I already do.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter totally got away from me lol, but nonetheless I hope it's enjoyable!

_Revvin' up your engine___  
Listen to her howlin' roar  
Metal under tension  
Beggin' you to touch and go

Maverick slid the glass shower door open a smidgen and upped the volume on his speaker, trying not to drip water all over the bathroom floor.

_Highway to the danger zone  
Ride into the danger zone_

He sang along to the words, closing his eyes as he rubbed shampoo into his hair. He knew Goose was lounging outside on his bed, but by now his best friend knew that there was no stopping Maverick listening to music in the shower. That and he had bought a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over the summer.

Maverick grinned when he heard the door outside open, followed a familiar voice.

“Oh, _Maverick, _honey, that voice of yours is _heav-en-ly,_” Carole exclaimed, laughing. The bathroom door was cracked open, and her voice, always light and cheerful like a song, drifted in above the sound of the shower and, as always, had a way of making Maverick feel that much better. Carole had also gone to high school with him and Goose—she’d enrolled a few years after he and Goose had met—but honest to God, Maverick didn’t know what he’d do without her.

He heard her and Goose chuckling outside, followed by the familiar sound of Carole admonishing her boyfriend for something he probably forgot to do. _Okay, okay! _Goose was saying between barks of laughter. The usual.

“You two better have all your clothes on when I get out of the shower,” Maverick called back, shaking his head in amusement.

“Well you better be out of there in ten minutes, or you’ll be late for tryouts and you better not think I’m waiting around for you!” Goose shot back. 

***

Maverick had never been nervous for tryouts in his life. He was a shoe-in every year of high school, and before his father’s untimely indictment, he’d impressed on every college campus he’d tried out at on the East Coast. 

The only thing going against him was what his old high school coach would call—_that reckless temperament that’s gonna get you sent off whenever it counts, Mav_. Okay, so he’d set the record for most red cards ever accrued in one season, but that was never an issue. Not when he scored a hat-trick every four or five games. That shut everybody up.

Goose had warned him this was different.

_We’re not in high school anymore, Mav. Miramar’s a serious place; they made it to the finals of the Western Conference last year, and they’re in line to win it all this year. They can’t have a wildcard on the team. _

He repeated Goose’s words in his mind as he watched the scrimmage before him. He was sat in the middle of the bleachers with the other hopefuls. The coaching staff wanted all of them to watch the team in action before trying out themselves. Maverick figured it was an intimidation tactic, and he could see the newbies around him—mostly freshmen—whispering to each other, eyes wide in what could only be described as sheer terror.

Maverick chuckled as he settled back, resting his elbows against the seats behind him. 

Goose was… an interesting player. He wasn’t _bad _by any means. Miramar wouldn’t have put him on the team if he wasn’t an impressive player by objective standards. But where everything had been effortless for Maverick back in high school, Goose had to put in 120% for every save he made. Maverick could see his every muscle exerting maximum effort as he lunged and dived, but he smiled proudly at how at home his best friend seemed to be between the goal posts. It was hardly effortless for Goose, but it didn’t have to be for him to get the job done.

On the other end of the pitch, Hollywood played with an ease about him, his feet naturally maneuvering around defenders. He was quick footed and had a good eye for goal, not to mention how in sync he was with Wolf, who constantly fed him crosses and through passes down the right wing.

At the center of the scrimmage was the captain. Viper. Maverick had heard a lot about him. He was famous on the West Coast. Not one kid who had dreams of making it big in the football world hadn’t heard of him. The first player to ever make the All Star Team his freshman year, and every year since. That was the man to impress. He played with a distinctive focus, a control that Maverick—who never really let himself be impressed by anything—_almost_ envied. He was passing left, right, up, down. He was the conductor. Every attack his side concocted started at his feet.

Despite Maverick’s best efforts to keep his eyes on Viper’s every move, he couldn’t help but get distracted by the show on the other side of the pitch. It was him. _Ice. _The blond who had already scored two goals in the last twenty minutes. If Hollywood played with ease, this man played with sheer technical prowess. His every move was calculated, and his dribbles were devastating for any defender that dared to run up against him. Maverick watched the next move play out. Goose passed the ball to one of his defenders, who tried to feed it into Wolf. His pass was cut off by a defender from the opposing side—a tall, ridiculously muscled man whose skin glistened under the raging sun. He sidestepped the defense and lobbed the ball down the middle and into the path of Ice.

Ice didn’t hesitate. His first touch was glorious, and his second took him around the last defender. He shot with clean precision into the left corner, and Goose didn’t stand a chance. Another one down. Maverick watched the tall brunet defender run after his blond teammate and catch him in a headlock. Maverick found himself training his eyes on the faintest hint of a smile on Ice’s face. When his brunet companion gave him a shake, letting out a yelp of joy, the blond laughed.

And Maverick would be lying if he said that he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

***

The team, including the crowd of hopefuls, gathered back in the locker rooms, where Viper was standing on one end facing the group. On his left, sitting on one of the benches, was Jester, his vice-captain. He had his crutches leaning against the lockers beside him; he’d been injured halfway through last season, a devastating tackle tearing his ACL and benching him for at least another couple of months.

“What the fuck do you mean you’ve got a _puppy_?” one of the midfielders—Cougar—was saying in a fit of laughter.

Wolf, who was twisting a baseball cap backwards on his head, grinned so hard it threatened to split his face. “Y’all are overreacting. I found her on the side of the road last night, no momma anywhere or anything! Brought her home, gave her a bath, and she looks like a little wolf now! So we’re keepin’ her. Hollywood’s cool with it!”

“Yeah, but ‘Wood would let you get away with anything,” another player said, glancing over at Hollywood, who was taking off his cleats by his locker.

Hollywood rolled his eyes, face instantly going out of view as he turned back around to face his locker. But Maverick hadn’t missed the fierce blush on his cheeks.

Maverick glanced back at Viper, who was waiting patiently for the raucousness to die down. He couldn’t help but notice Ice on the other side of the room, with the same brunet who’d now slung an arm around his shoulder. Despite the California heat, Ice’s frosted tips were still perfectly styled, and the sheen of sweat on his skin was undisturbed. His perfectly sculpted lips curled around the nozzle of his water bottle, and Maverick had to willfully wrench his eyes away.

_God dammit, _Maverick thought to himself. _What is wrong with you? _It was the first time he’d acknowledged to himself that, maybe, he was reacting to Ice in a way that wasn’t what he would call _normal. _

“All right, let’s settle down now,” Viper said, all business. The room instantly quieted down. “As you know, coaching staff’s given the captains full responsibility to decide who makes the team this year, which is good news and bad news. Good news for us, because we get to pick only those that gel best with the current team, and bad for you because, for all you hopefuls, it means anything you showed the coaches and recruiters during your initial tryouts means zilch. We’re back to square one, so don’t hold back. Nothing you’ve done before, in high school, at summer camps, matters anymore. It only matters what we see here today.” 

He glanced at Jester, who nodded and took over.

“We’re going to be doing five against five scrimmages today, just like the games you just saw, and we’re mixing all you hopefuls in with the team to see how well you play together,” Jester said, his gaze cutting through the room like a knife. “This is the real deal, folks. It’s now or never to impress. We’re making final team decisions by the end of the week.”

Viper nodded, and flipped another page on the clipboard he was holding.

“Before we get back out there, I want to make a quick announcement,” he said. “As you all know, we’re going to be without Jester until at least the winter break, and every team needs a playing captain and a vice. So after much deliberation, taking into consideration all the potential candidates—and believe you me, you didn’t make this an easy decision, we’ve decided on our new vice-captain.” 

Maverick noticed a few of the seniors and juniors on the team tense up, Cougar included.

“Ice,” Viper said, letting out a small, proud smile.

“Wooh!” the brunet beside Ice yelped, much too loudly for Maverick's liking. He wanted to wipe the smirk off the defender’s face, and he didn’t know why.

Cougar, who looked disappointed but not surprised, reached over to clap Ice on the back. So did many others who came up to congratulate him. Hollywood and Wolf were making playful saluting gestures, and Ice grinned back at their antics.

When the initial buzz had died down and Ice was finally visible again through all the hugs he was receiving, Maverick decided he should probably congratulate him. And introduce himself. Goose materialized next to him, and he followed his best friend to Ice’s side.

“Congratulations, man!” Goose said, bringing Ice in for a big hug. If the blond was surprised at all by Goose’s sudden gesture, he didn’t show it.

“Mother Goose!” he exclaimed, looking genuinely happy to see the boisterous goalie. Maverick couldn’t help but notice that the blond’s features were much softer up close. 

“I wanted to introduce you to my roomie, Maverick,” Goose carried on, gesturing at Maverick. “He’s hoping to make the team, and let me tell you I’ve never seen a better instinctive goal scorer in my life… except for you, of course, I just mean that, you know, he’s _really _good—”

Embarrassing Maverick had a permanent place on Goose’s resume at this point. 

Ice looked less impressed, surveying Maverick with eyes that spoke of a challenge. His lips curled into a smile, like a Cheshire cat, and for a second Maverick’s brain stopped. 

“Maverick? Duke Mitchell’s son?”

The sound of his father’s name was like a splash of cold water on his face. He turned to see the brunet defender appear beside Ice.

“Mav, this is Slider. Defense,” Goose said, though he was biting his lip at Slider’s words. “Hell of a slide tackler, if his callsign doesn’t give it away,” he laughed nervously.

“Duke Mitchell’s son, though, right?” Slider said, nodding at Maverick expectantly. “You’re pretty famous ‘round here. Can’t believe you’re here, after everything. Lucky son of a bitch, you must be.”

“Don’t know if luck has much to do with it,” Maverick deadpanned.

“Wouldn’t call him lucky, either,” Ice interjected, still staring Maverick down. “More like notorious.”

Maverick blinked, and instantly hated himself for breaking eye contact with Ice, who smirked.

“Nice to meet you,” Ice said with a self-assured smile, before his gaze drifted behind Maverick to someone else who was yelling congratulations at him.

As Ice and Slider wandered off, Maverick felt Goose’s comforting arm around his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, Maverick felt a weird stinging sensation in his chest. He didn’t want to think back to the last time he’d felt that way.

***

As fate would have it, he was placed on the team opposing the one that Ice captained. Cougar was named the captain of Maverick’s own five-man team, and the midfielder was no pushover. He eyed Ice up and down when they shook hands, but Ice didn’t flinch.

Maverick wondered if Ice had ever felt less than confident.

The whistle blew and Cougar swung the ball back to a freshman midfielder. Game on.

It was seconds later when Maverick had his first touch on the ball, and he skipped past a blind tackle and ran the ball up the wing. He loved the feeling of grass underneath his cleats. He loved the ball at his feet, the rush that took over his heart when he sent the ball flying. He loved the wind whistling through his hair as he twisted and turned to dodge challenge after challenge.

He saw Slider coming in for a tackle and passed it back to Cougar, who fed it into Chipper on the wing. Chipper saw Maverick’s run, and threaded the perfect through ball. Maverick vaguely registered the freshman goalkeeper’s gaze of terror before he slammed the ball into the back of the net. 

One-nil.

Maverick felt his heart burst with joy, just like it did every time he scored. He laughed when Cougar practically jumped into his arms, and Chipper was not far behind. But the best feeling had to be when Goose brought him in for a hug before their classic high-five sequence. The last time they’d done that it had been their senior year of high-school, before his life had fallen apart.

And then the game was on again. 

Maverick admitted that Ice was a good leader. He didn’t fret over being one-nil down, and instead he instructed his defense to spread out and play a higher line. _Good move, _Maverick thought. Maverick could see Viper watching approvingly from the sidelines. 

It was minutes later when Ice scored on a free kick that shut the entire pitch full of onlookers up. Maverick had never seen a ball curl like that. Hell, _he’d _never shot a free kick like that. Ice’s form was next to none. The way he spun the ball on his fingertip, twirling it like a top, before setting it down on the grass. The way his back muscles rippled when he took a few steps back to set his eyes on goal. The way his cleat kissed the ball and sent it, along with a handful of turf, flying. Even if Goose had grown five feet and spawned six more arms, he’d have stood no chance. It was the perfect free kick. 

Ice’s show of pure technical genius seemed to rattle the nerves of the freshmen on Maverick’s team, and ten minutes later Ice scored again, this time from a well-timed through-ball from Slider. Though he was racking up the scoreboard, Maverick couldn’t help but notice how unselfish Ice was on the pitch. He was patient, and there were times when he had a clear sight on goal and chose instead to thread the ball through for one of the freshmen to take a shot.

After the half-time whistle, Maverick scored a banger to make it 2-1. It was a wild shot from nearly halfway down the pitch, but his aim rarely failed him and, what could he say, he was feeling lucky. Cougar had screamed at him when he’d tee’d up the shot—_What are you doing, Tex is open man!—_but his complaint had died in his mouth when he saw the ball flying into the back of the goal. 

Maverick was revved up now. Time was running out, and he was eyeing the scoreboard— no way he wasn’t coming out of this without _at least _as many goals as Ice. Ice may not be selfish on the pitch, but Maverick had no problem with it.

And maybe, just maybe, he should’ve listened to the little voice inside his head—the little _Carole, _he called it—and stopped himself before he went in for the tackle. 

“Studs up! That’s a red!”

Maverick got back to his feet and turned around to see Viper stalking towards them. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he swallowed down—with some effort, mind you—his instinct to defend himself and say _no, I clearly got the ball._ He had no idea if he’d actually gotten the ball, but _really, _the tackle couldn’t have been that bad.

Until he saw his opponent—Merlin—on the ground, clutching his thigh. Maverick instantly felt terrible. He wasn’t heartless.

“Sorry, man,” he said, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. The older boy looked at him and half-smiled, half-winced.

“S’okay,” he said, shrugging. “Just a knock.”

When Maverick straightened up, he could feel eyes on the back of his head. He turned around to see the entire pitch staring at him. Every pair of eyes. Ice was looking at him with an unreadable expression, calm and passive. Slider was whispering something into Ice's ear, his brown eyes narrowed and surveying Maverick like he was an enemy jet on radar lock. 

Viper gestured at him to get off the pitch, and he didn’t have to be told twice. He avoided Goose’s gaze the whole way.

***

Maverick was still reeling fifteen minutes later in the showers, fresh from a sharp telling off from both Jester and Viper, who’d made it clear that under no circumstances was he _ever _allowed to fly in for a challenge with his studs up like that again.

When the rest of the team started to pile in, he just leaned into the hot spray of the shower. He could hear Cougar consoling his team, and he wished for the fiftieth time in fifteen minutes that he hadn’t made the tackle. 

“Told you he was a wildcard, man.” Slider’s voice boomed suddenly.

“Yeah, I heard he was selfish on the pitch but I didn’t think he was out to kill us all,” Ice’s voice followed, a little more muffled by the din of the crowd.

Maverick turned around and rested his back against the cold tile wall, singing the words to _Danger Zone _in his head.

“I mean, when you think of his father, does it surprise you?” Slider joked. 

So much for calming down. Maverick shut the shower off angrily and grabbed his towel.

“What the _fuck _is your problem?” Maverick said as he walked—stalked—as calmly as he could to where Ice and Slider were sitting on the benches by the showers. His voice came out of him like steam. 

He saw Goose rushing over to him worriedly. He couldn’t look at his best friend right now, not when everything felt like a train wreck all over again. Not when he’d probably failed Goose—without even _trying _to—_again. _

“My problem is that Merlin’s leg could be broken right now thanks to you,” Ice said calmly, one hand out to stop Slider from lunging at Maverick, which he damn near looked like he was about to do. Though his words were fire, Ice spoke with a dead calm that Maverick could feel in his core. Cold as ice. “Merlin should count himself lucky, because what you did was _dang-_erous. _You’re _dangerous.”

“Just like your father,” Slider scoffed absentmindedly.

Maverick nearly punched him right there. In fact, he almost did, but Goose’s hand rested on his shoulder just in time.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Hollywood interjected, looking at Slider disapprovingly. Slider looked at him and shrugged as if to say _what do you expect? _

Hollywood looked like he was going to say something back, but Maverick wasn’t one to let the peacekeepers keep the peace.

“That’s right, _Ice,_” he bit back, taking a few steps forward to get up in Ice’s face. “I am dangerous.”

Ice met him toe for toe. Maverick felt a surge of confidence, and he laid a hand on Ice’s bare chest to push him back. What he wasn’t expecting was the spark that shocked his fingertips when they came into contact with Ice’s unexpected heat.

He saw something in Ice’s gaze change. He snapped his jaw at Maverick, and Maverick could feel his breath hot on his cheek before Ice stalked away, Slider in tow.

Later that night, curled up in his bed with Goose snoring loudly a few feet away, Maverick tapped his fingers against his chest, still feeling the lingering spark. Had he seen a flicker of sympathy in Ice’s eyes before he walked away from him, or was he just that far gone?

_Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Also, the little scene where they're talking about Wolf bringing home a puppy was inspired by this tumblr post: https://topgunsocial.tumblr.com/post/187235554741
> 
> Also also, I am a huge football fan, but I don't actually play anymore, so if any of the portrayals of the games/scrimmages seem off, that's totally my bad!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, well this chapter got awaaaay from me. It's a long one and it had a life of its own even though it took me a while to get it written. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own, and I'm particularly sleep-deprived today so there may be more than usual.

Maverick sighed, resting his head back against his pillow. It was official. He’d made the varsity team, but just barely. That morning, when Viper had called his name out from the row of hopefuls, it was met with hushed whispers and barely-concealed side-eye glances. Everyone had gotten wind of his bad tackle on Merlin the previous week, and Maverick was sure there wasn’t one person in the room who was happy he’d made the team. Except for Goose, who encouraged him on with an excited nod.

“It wasn’t a unanimous decision between myself, Ice, and Jester,” Viper added, his voice measured. “But we’re giving you a chance, and either you’ll live up to our expectations, or you’re out.”

“Of course,” he’d said, eyes locking onto Viper’s confidently. His voice had come out way more self-assured than he felt.

The hard stares from the three captains made it hard to believe any of them had voted in his favor. Ice looked at him almost dismissively, and Maverick tried to respond with an equally cold gaze. Sure, maybe Ice’s eyes, and the way he moved on the pitch, did something to Maverick he didn’t quite understand, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let himself be bullied into submission. Ice broke the stare first.

Maverick wasn’t going to lie; it had been tough. He was happy at Miramar – the classes he’d shopped in these early weeks were already a hundred times more interesting than the ones at Fallon, the university grounds were a beauty to explore, he had Goose and Carole… It was great. But while at Fallon he couldn’t give less of a damn who disliked him, at Miramar he actually wanted to make friends. He wanted to feel some sense of normalcy after the hell he had been through the past year and a half, and yet the jeers still followed him. But he refused to let it break him. He was still a Maverick, after all.

Goose bounding into his room jolted Maverick out of his daydream. Goose was dressed in his maroon football kit – jersey, shorts, cleats and all.

“What the heck are you doing?” Maverick barked out in laughter. “Our game’s not for hours.”

Goose shrugged. “I like being prepared. Also, check this out—” he spun around ecstatically. “They gave me number 12!”

Maverick grinned when he saw the bright white 12 on the back of Goose’s jersey, the numbers shining as bright as his best friend’s smile.

“They’ll probably give me the worst number,” Maverick grinned. “Maybe something stupid like 72.”

After a dramatic pause, Goose exhaled. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, before bursting into laughter.

Maverick joined him, the chuckles escaping his chest comfortably as he lay back in bed again. Laughing with Goose like this made him forget about the past year. It felt good.

“I have econ in 20 minutes,” Maverick said eventually, yawning. “Wait, aren’t you in that class too?”

Goose nodded.

“So you’re just going to walk in there with your entire kit on?” Maverick asked, raising a lazy eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Goose said matter-of-factly.

Maverick rolled his eyes and grinned.

“Mother Goose,” he sighed, launching himself off the bed. “All right, let’s go.”

This time, Maverick was able to convince Goose to ride with him on his motorcycle to class.

There wasn’t one head that didn’t turn to look at them as Maverick sped through the campus. Goose yelled in excitement the entire way.

***

“Yo!” someone hollered when Maverick and Goose entered the large lecture hall.

Maverick turned, and the first thing he noticed was the unmistakable red of Wolf’s bandana, tied around his neck as usual.

Maverick grinned when Wolf beckoned him and Goose over, his arms motioning like waves in the crowded room. They shuffled down the aisle and took a seat a row in front of their teammate. 

“How’s the puppy?” Goose asked, clapping hands with the southerner.

“She peed on my jacket this morning.”

Goose nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. Maverick and Goose shared a bewildered glance when they noticed Hollywood sitting right next to Wolf, head resting against the back of the chair, eyes closed. He looked equal parts exhausted and pained.

“And she kept me up all night with her yapping,” he continued almost matter-of-factly, stifling a yawn before opening his eyes.

“Oh come on_, _‘Wood,” Wolf complained, looking downright like a puppy himself. “She’s just gettin’ used to us, that’s all. I’ll have her trained in a week, tops.”

“Easy for you to say,” Hollywood said, wincing against the bright lights. “You missed all her barking. You were at the library until dawn.”

“I fell _asleep _at the library,” Wolf countered.

“Yeah, at least you _got _some sleep,” Hollywood shot right back, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed his fondness for the pouting young man in front of him.

“I thought you were a psych major,” Maverick said, nodding towards Wolf.

Wolf shrugged. “’Wood drags me to his econ classes sometimes and it turns out I’m not terrible at it.”

Hollywood chuckled.

“Well I hate it,” Goose said, his eyes glancing over to the front of the room as the tall, suited professor walked through the doorway. “Too bad it’s a requirement for business majors.”

“Eh,” Hollywood said, leaning back against his chair. “You two are taking the easiest major at Miramar, so you don’t get to complain.”

“Don’t _stereotype, _‘Wood,” Maverick joked, and the older boy slapped the back of his head gently.

Maverick grinned. He liked Hollywood.

“Besides, we gotta catch some slack somewhere with all these god damn hours of training,” Goose said, fishing for his pencil case from his backpack. A pen clattered to ground and Maverick snatched it up. “Except for Viper, the maniac. How he double majors in engineering _and _political science while still maintaining his sanity I’ll never know.”

“Yeah, him and Ice, the fuckin’ pre-med,” Wolf said.

“Ice is pre-med?” Maverick asked.

Wolf opened his mouth to respond, but when the professor called for silence at the front of the room, he simply nodded silently.

“Huh,” Maverick muttered under his breath, turning around to right himself in his chair.

***

_Are you fucking kidding me, _Maverick thought when Viper very bluntly told him after their warm-up session that he would start on the bench for the first friendly of the season.

“It’s fine, Mav, they never start the newbies,” Goose said. His voice took on that reassuring, and blissfully positive tone that Maverick always took comfort in, though he’d never admit it to his best friend’s face. Too bad it was never quite enough to tame Maverick when he was as frustrated as he was.

Maverick barely suppressed a groan when he and Goose headed back through the tunnel that connected the pitch to the nearby locker room. Outside, he could hear the sound of chatter growing louder, dulled only slightly by the walls. During their practice, he had already seen the bleachers begin to fill up, students clearly excited to watch the first pre-season game. Though it was classified as a friendly, it was going to be anything but. They were playing Colson Bay University, which was the very team that had knocked Miramar out of the championships the year before, robbing them of a shot in the finals against Halsten, who ultimately won Nationals in a 5-1 hammering. Goose never let a day pass without mentioning how Miramar would have won it all if it hadn’t been for Colson’s downright abhorrent tackles and the referee’s unreasonable leniency.

Colson Bay was also the team that had put Jester out for the season when they’d faced each other months before the fateful semi-final.

Maverick could see the determination bubbling in the eyes of every one of his teammates. The bitter feeling in his chest at being benched instantly melted away. These men wanted revenge, and Maverick felt himself getting pumped. He was ready to help them win it all, even if he had to start out on the bench.

Ice was standing with Viper in front of the team, dressed in his kit. Maverick didn’t think it was possible for a kit to look sharp or crisp, but Ice had surprised Maverick in many ways already. He wore number 7, and Maverick couldn’t help but think how well the number suited him. Not just because a team’s number 7 was usually their most devastating striker, but even because of the way the number was shaped, like a blade, sharp, ice cold. 

“Goose, you’re in goal, we’re playing 4-4-2, like we practiced,” Ice was saying when Maverick’s ears finally caught up. “Slider, Sundown, Tex, and Merlin in defense; Viper and Cougar are going to be the anchors, Wolf and Cougar on the wings. Hollywood, you play false 9, and I’ll go center forward.”

“Let’s rock and roll, then,” Viper said, getting to his feet and clapping his hands together. The glint in his eyes had a hint of mischief, and Maverick couldn’t help but smile.

The team began to file out of the locker room.

“And you newbies,” Ice said almost casually over his shoulder, “Don’t let loose on the bench. Just because you’re not starting doesn’t mean we’re not going to test you out there before the season starts.”

He and Maverick locked eyes for a split second, and Maverick felt a shiver run down his spine.

Moments later, as Maverick followed the rest of the bench-warmers out onto the sidelines, he marveled at how quickly the bleachers had filled up in the last 15 minutes. There was almost no free space to be seen. The atmosphere was electric, and when the two teams lined up next to each-other, the crowd was in a frenzy. Maverick laughed when he noticed Carole in the bleachers, front row, waving at him madly. She made a heart with her hands, and Maverick did the same, pointing at Goose with the best grin he could muster.

“Your girlfriend or something?” a freshman – Jackal – piped up beside him.

“Goose’s,” Maverick responded before turning away from the freshman. It felt weird sometimes not to be able to casually say, _Nah, not my girlfriend, I’m gay, _without the fear of raising even more questions about himself that he didn’t care to answer. But Goose knew, and Carole knew, and those were the only two who mattered to him.

Maverick watched carefully as Miramar filed out in front of Colson Bay, shaking their players’ hands. Maverick narrowed his eyes when he saw a particularly awkward exchange between Cougar and the captain of Colson Bay – _Storm, _his jersey said. Cougar extended his hand out, but Storm very deliberately drew his hand back and refused the shake. The moment was over in an instant, but Maverick caught it and wondered briefly if perhaps he’d underestimated the extent of this rivalry.

Moments later, the coin was flipped, Colson Bay got the kick-off, and the whistle blew.

Maverick exhaled. What he’d do to be on the pitch.

***

The first ten minutes of the game went by without incident. Both teams were caught in a deadlock, neither able to breach the other’s defense. Miramar was playing a high defensive line, rendering most offensive runs offside, and Colson Bay had basically parked the bus in front of goal.

In the 13th minute, the deadlock was broken on a set piece. Cougar whipped a corner into the perfect area. Colson’s defense scrambled to clear it, but Ice rose above the fray to knock it home at close range. Maverick should have known it would be Ice who would break, well, the _ice._

1-0.

Maverick definitely _didn’t _stare when Ice jogged to the corner to celebrate. The blond’s smile was contagious. The way his controlled features broke into laughter when Wolf leapt into his arms made Maverick long to keep seeing the blond smile.

_My goooood-ness, you’re so gone, _Maverick’s inner Carole swooned. He swatted the thought away.

Three minutes later, Colson Bay equalized, and the entire Miramar bench was up in arms, including Maverick. The crowd went crazy. Colson had scored off of a free kick that should never have been awarded. Their number 20 was one _hell _of a diver, and the referee had fallen for it.

“Fucking shit,” Maverick groaned.

He saw Slider complaining to the referee before Ice gently guided him away, gesturing at Slider to calm down. Viper stood at a distance, mouth pursed, eyes contemplative.

The minutes that followed were brutal and, from Maverick’s vantage point on the bench, almost painful to watch. His team was playing well, finding pockets of space to break through Colson’s defense, but every other minute Colson was delivering brutal tackle after brutal tackle. The ref had yet to give out a yellow. Minutes later, Colson scored on a break that started from a mistimed pass from Chipper. 2-1 Colson.

And then all hell broke loose.

“Ahh!”

Maverick rushed to his feet when he saw Wolf go down with a yell close to the opponent’s penalty box. The offending defender raised his hands, looking around as if to say _what did I do? _He knew very well what he’d done.

Maverick winced when he thought how similar it had been to the tackle he’d made on Merlin. This one had clearly been rougher, though, if the disturbed turf was anything to go by. Wolf was clutching his ankle.

What Maverick didn’t see coming was Hollywood sprinting from the other side of the pitch, yelling himself hoarse.

“Storm!” he yelled. “_Storm! _What the _fuck?!_ You fucking asshole!”

It took both Cougar and Chipper to hold Hollywood back. Maverick had never seen Hollywood, usually so calm and indifferent, so utterly incensed. Maverick walked right up to the pitch to see exactly what was going on. Hollywood had stopped pursuing Storm, who was being shown a yellow card by the referee, and was now at Wolf’s side as the medics came to help him to the sidelines. Hollywood followed, and Maverick rushed up to meet them.

“Is he okay to play?” Maverick asked, watching the medics pile ice packs around the younger boy’s ankle.

Wolf winced, but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think I’m good.”

“Mother fuck,” Hollywood snapped, still eyeing Storm on the pitch. He had one hand wrapped protectively around Wolf’s shoulder. “That should have been a straight red.”

Maverick saw Wolf and Hollywood share a glance that was almost tender_, _and he smiled inwardly.

“Give me until the next out, and I’ll get back on,” Wolf insisted. When Hollywood looked no more assured, Wolf looked up at him with a small smile. “Hey, I promise I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Hollywood asked, frowning. “Because if you’re hurt, you shouldn’t be playing. So you need to be sure, cause I—”

“Yeah, I’m sure, you doofus,” Wolf chuckled. Even then, it was only when Viper called for the second time that Hollywood finally left to rejoin the game.

***

Halftime came and went, and the score was still locked at 2-1 to Colson. But in the 78th minute, Ice struck again to equalize.

The lead-up to his second goal started with a perfect lob sent his way by Wolf. Ice chested it down, the ball bounced back up, and Ice hammered it into the near corner, aim merciless. Maverick frowned, though, when he saw that Ice had landed awkwardly. When the blond rose back up to his feet, he was palming his knee. Maverick could see the slightest strain on his face, and when he took a step forward, his limp was clear as day.

When the next play began, Maverick’s eyes never left Ice’s form. He noticed that the blond’s limp never quite subsided. Ice was moving gingerly, and after about 5 minutes, the blond looked to the bench, his expression pained. He calmly sought Viper’s gaze out and made the substitution sign with his hands.

Slider followed the blond off the field as Jester, who was taking point from the sidelines, gestured at a freshman striker to put on his jersey and replace Ice. 

Maverick stood up, ready to insist that he was _surely _more likely to score than anyone else on the bench. Before he could open his mouth, he heard Slider whispering urgently to Ice.

“He might not even find out; you’ll be fine,” the tall boy was saying. “You’re two goals in already.”

“I _know_,” Ice said, and though his words were impatient, his voice was calm. However, Maverick noticed that though his face was no longer pained, he looked exasperated. Not at Slider, though. Maverick didn’t know at what.

“No, wait,” Ice said suddenly, turning to Jester. “Don’t put on the fresher. Put Maverick on.”

If Jester was surprised, only the slight rise of his left eyebrow showed it. He and Ice looked at each other for a moment, and then Jester turned to Maverick and nodded. 

“Show us what you got, kid,” he said.

Maverick was rarely rendered speechless—usually he opted to bust through every red light with a loud mouth and a blistering attitude. But now, for the first time in a long time, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes darted to Ice, who looked at him with an expression that made Maverick feel like the whole world was spinning. The blond was intoxicating.

“Don’t make me wish I stayed on,” he said quickly before turning around and making his way to the medics.

And Maverick was never one to turn down a challenge. He didn’t even let the number on the jersey Jester threw him—an unimpressive 33—dampen his mood.

In added time—90+1 to be precise; Maverick always left it late—he intercepted a pass in midfield and threaded the ball through to Hollywood. Hollywood made a run up the left wing, did a one-two with Viper, and spotted Maverick’s run up the middle. _Lucky I could see you amongst all the taller players, _he’d joke later.

Hollywood slammed a cross into the penalty box and Maverick showed no mercy. It was the last kick of the game, and it took Miramar to victory.

***

Though the football pitch was his first home, Maverick felt just as at home in the middle of a party. And he soon discovered that just like the Miramar boys knew how to win games, they knew how to throw one hell of a celebration.

He was practically lifted off the field and into the locker rooms after his winning goal. It was exhilarating. He spotted Ice in the crowd, looking at him with a small—was it a smile?—gracing his full lips. Goose wouldn’t stop hollering in his ear.

The freshmen, a couple of which Jester subbed in later in the game, were blasting music, arms flailing. They’d beaten Colson Bay – a victory they knew they were robbed of the year before. They were riding on a high.

Viper and Jester were the first to leave, followed closely by Cougar and a few other juniors. Ice had disappeared too, though Maverick looked and looked for him as he always found himself doing these days. But even more so now. Ice was the reason he’d been the hero of the game. _Why’d the blond let him? _

About 45 minutes later, when the cheers had finally subsided, Maverick, Goose, Hollywood, and Wolf filed out of the locker rooms, followed closely by Chipper and Sundown, who were Hollywood and Wolf’s suitemates.

“Yo, we’re havin’ a party at ours later, ‘round midnight,” Wolf drawled. He looked hilarious – his ankle was wrapped in ridiculously large ice packs and he walked like he had a weight strapped to one foot. “Y’all need to come.”

“That’s late,” Goose complained, though everyone knew Goose would always be up for a party.

“Apparently ‘Wood’s got to _study _this evening_,_” Wolf said, using air quotes liberally before dodging Hollywood’s soft punch.

“You guys in?” Sundown asked.

“You bet,” Maverick said, nodding vigorously.

“We gotta celebrate the fact that we have a new striker to look out for!” Chipper hollered.

“That shot was fuckin’ savage,” Sundown agreed.

“This party better be fuckin’ savage too, hey?” Maverick laughed, reveling in the feel of Goose’s encouraging arm around his shoulder. When he palmed his pocket for his keys, he stopped and groaned. “I’ll see you back at the dorm, Goose, I gotta grab my keys from the locker.”

Maverick jogged back to the locker room and slipped inside. As he made his way to his locker, he stopped when he heard the sound of two voices talking softly at the back of the room.

“You can’t miss the next game or he’ll know.”

Was that Slider?

“You need to get that knee under control. I’m not trying to preach, or force you to get better… but I just… I know how he gets.”

Yeah, definitely Slider.

“I know, Sly. But if I push this knee any further I’ll be out for even longer.”

Ice. He sounded tired. Slider let out a deep sigh.

“Fuck, I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I’ll be fine.”

“He nearly _pulled _you from the team last year because you didn’t make All Stars, even though you were _top scorer. _You can’t say _I’ll be fine._”

“Yes, I _can,_” Ice bit back, his voice levelled. “I’ve been fine for 19 years. This year won’t be any different.”

“And why’d you get Jester to put Maverick on?” Slider continued, sounding more aggravated by the second. “You know he’s the only one with a shot at competing for top scorer with you, and now he’s level on goals.”

Maverick froze. His breath hitched as he waited for Ice’s answer.

It was a while before he heard Ice sigh.

“You know why,” he said softly. “I want us to go all the way and win this thing, and Maverick… he gives us the best chance of doing that.”

Silence followed, and Maverick found himself stuck. He bit his lip, hard, and tiptoed back towards the door, with the full intention of getting out of there unnoticed. When he slipped on the wet floor, he caught himself from falling flat on his ass. Instead he fell right into the door, and decided instead to make as much noise as possible to make Ice and Slider think someone was just barreling in.

It worked. As Maverick regained his balance and swung the door shut behind him, he saw Slider rounding the corner and heading towards the back exit without seeing him.

Maverick made his way to his locker, feeling like a bundle of nerves. He couldn’t see Ice behind the row of lockers, but knowing that he was still there, that it was just the two of them, made Maverick’s heart race.

He opened his locker and stuck his hand in to search for his keys.

“Mitchell.”

Maverick swallowed a gasp.

“Ice?” Maverick asked, trying to look nonchalant as he turned around to face the boy. He might have managed, maybe, if it weren’t for the fact that he was pretty sure anyone could see his shock from the moon.

Ice really was beautiful. The curve of his jaw, how the tan of his skin accentuated the clean white shirt he was wearing. His brow, always drawn in concentration, and how his blue-green eyes reminded Maverick of the grass on the football pitch after heavy rain. Maverick took in every inch of the blond before he could even stop himself.

“I want to apologize for what Slider said to you last week,” Ice said, holding a hand up as if to put very deliberate distance between them. As if Maverick would react badly. But how could he when Ice was Ice and in the span of one week he’d successfully made Maverick question how he’d ever found anyone else remotely attractive? Maverick may never have been the king of his own emotions but when it came to Ice… when it came to Ice, Maverick felt _every _emotion. Maverick was used to getting the attention – fielding it, flaunting it, lapping it up. But now he found himself chasing Ice’s. 

“It wasn’t fair to you,” Ice continued, before raising his eyes to the ceiling and taking a breath.

“So you’re apologizing for the both of you?” It came out harsher than Maverick intended, but he could barely get his voice out without stuttering.

“No,” Ice said. “Slider will apologize for himself. Or he won’t.”

Maverick nodded, regaining his senses slowly.

“I’m sorry,” Ice repeated, before turning away.

Maverick watched him, and he was suddenly gripped with the desire to make the blond stay. 

“I overheard you and Slider talking.” The sentence had flooded out of his mouth before he could kill it and Maverick nearly bit the inside of his cheek in instant regret. What the fuck was he thinking? What the _actual _fuck?

The blond stilled mid-step. Maverick saw the muscles in his back clench.

“I’m sorry, I—” Maverick backtracked.

Ice resumed walking towards the door without turning around, and Maverick let him.

***

Later that night, Maverick wandered the library, trying to decide whether he could cram a few hours of revision in before Hollywood and Wolf’s party. The library at Miramar was a masterpiece in architecture, and with all its intricate hallways and spaces dedicated to studying, Maverick found himself exploring every corner rather than actually sitting down to get to work.

Maverick walked into the mezzanine level, scanning the room for an empty seat. It was then that he saw Ice, sitting alone at a study cubicle. He was in the section of the floor labelled “Quiet,” and he sat right in the corner by the windows. Apart from when Maverick had first seen him at the fresher’s football meet and greet, this was the first time Maverick had seen Ice outside of the pitch or the locker rooms. He was wearing dark jeans and a grey henley shirt, and his hair was still annoyingly perfect, though a little less stiff than he wore it for practice. He was engrossed in a thick textbook, and one hand was twirling a silver pen with practiced ease.

Maverick lingered a moment before deciding to leave.

The cold air outside hit him like a glass of ice water to the face. He checked his watch. It was only ten thirty, so he’d still have time to go home and figure out where Goose was before heading over to Hollywoood and Wolf’s dorm—Colby Hall—to end the day on a good note.

When Maverick rounded the corner to take a shortcut through one of the smaller alleyways that crisscrossed through the main campus, he heard someone hollering his name.

“Pete fuckin’ Mitchell!”

Maverick groaned inwardly. He was still kicking himself for bringing up his eavesdropping to Ice, and he was _not _in the mood to deal with this right now. He kept walking, faster now, but he turned around to locate the source of the voice. Two boys, probably freshers, clearly tipsy if not downright drunk, were stumbling down the same narrow alleyway towards him.

“Did the college send out a PSA to tell everyone that a fuckin’ psycho’s on the loose?”

“Like father like son, right?” the other one barked with laughter. “He teach you his tricks?”

Maverick kept his head down, partially because of the wind now whistling through the alleyway, but mostly because he was close to snapping.

Suddenly the voices were much closer.

“What, you scared, man?" 

“Nah, man, he’s probably hardened to it by now. He probably helped his pops carry out the deeds, if you know what I mean.”

Maverick turned around to quip back, but instead he turned right into a perfectly timed right hook.

“Fuck!” Maverick yelled, clutching his face as he stumbled down to one knee. Another blow knocked him onto all fours. And then they came raining down on his face like penalty kicks into an open goal.

Maverick’s head hit the asphalt and his vision blurred. He heard the boys laughing… high-fiving…

… and then there was shouting… a lot of shouting… he heard the sound of footsteps beating the ground…

And then he felt a warm hand cupping in his own. His vision was spotty, and he shifted his head to see who it was.

“Maverick! Maverick, Mav_-e-rick_…”

He could recognize that voice blind. It was Ice, kneeling next to him, his eyes calming the panic in Maverick's chest.

“Maverick, stay awake for me, okay?”

Maverick was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Before the darkness took him, he remembered thinking, _Yeah, I can see the grass of the football pitch in his eyes. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One quick note: Though this chapter may make you think otherwise, I have mad respect for football referees. As a football fan, I've had moments when I've complained (a lot) about what I thought were terrible ref calls, but it's a tough job and no games are perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I originally outlined this chapter to be much longer, but it's been a looong week (and a very slow week for writing), so I thought I'd post this first. It's a little shorter, but hopefully writer's block will wear off soon and I'll be able to get some longer chaps up. Hope y'all enjoy the read for now!

_“Dad!” Maverick screamed, eyes shot, face red, lips trembling. _

_He stumbled to his feet. His arms flailed uselessly as he could still feel the waves of sleep drowning his every breath. His peripheries were drenched in the darkness of the night, and all he could see was the silhouette of his father being dragged out of the bedroom._

_He’d only just been slipping into Maverick’s room to wish him goodnight. _

_“What the hell is going on?” Maverick yelled. He could barely feel the tears streaming down his face. He just felt hot. Panicked. Like a caged animal._

_He could hear the sound of thunderous footsteps all around him as his room filled with people. _

_Maverick made a run for the door, but strong arms held him back. He struggled against them, shouting expletives. _

_“Settle down, kid,” he heard someone—a man— whisper gruffly._

_He’d chosen the wrong kid to say that to, and Maverick responded by kicking him in the balls despite the hold he was in._

_“Mother fuck!” the man groaned. Maverick was only registering now that these were policemen around him. And the loud keening noise wasn’t in his head. They were sirens._

_“Dad!” Maverick yelled again. He could no longer see his father, but he could hear his voice outside._

_And then he heard the words that changed his life forever._

_“Duke Mitchell, you’re under arrest for the murders of—”_

_***_

Maverick jolted awake in a panic. He gasped like a fish on dry land for a second before his vision settled and his eyes took in his surroundings.

He was lying in a bed, but it wasn’t his own. He was under a thin, white duvet… definitely the polar opposite of his own red hot sheets. This room was dimly lit, same size as his… but… not his. It took a few seconds before the memories of the night flooded back into his consciousness. He’d been walking down an alley… some jerk had punched him… he’d hit his head… then Ice was there…

Fuck. _Ice. _

Maverick looked around and nearly passed out again when he saw Ice sitting calmly at his desk, twirling a pen in one hand and flipping a page of his textbook with the other. He was the picture of calm, of serenity—as always the polar opposite of Maverick’s hectic mind.

“Ice?” he called. His voice sounded foreign to even himself, because _holy shit, was he in Ice’s room? _

Ice looked up, and their eyes locked. Maverick couldn’t breathe.

“Maverick,” Ice said, getting up out of his chair slowly. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and Maverick couldn’t help but think how foreign it looked – he’d only ever seen Ice dressed sharply, and seeing him in comfortable clothes was weird. A good kind of weird, but weird nonetheless.

Ice walked over to him. “Put that compress back on.”

Maverick frowned when he saw the small rectangular ice pack on the pillow next to his head. His forehead still felt ice cold, and he realized he must have tossed the compress off his face when he’d woken from his dream. Or nightmare, rather.

“Just keep it on your forehead; it’s the least you could do since you wouldn’t let me take you to Health Services,” Ice sighed, standing beside the bed.

“I… what?”

Ice squinted, and Maverick couldn’t tell if Ice was examining the wounds on his face or examining _him_. “Before you passed out, you told me that under no uncertain terms was I to bring you to Health Services, because the media would have a field day. But you should go. You were knocked out cold.”

“I told you not to take me… and you listened to me?” Maverick asked, bypassing the latter part of what Ice had said. Not cruelly, but truly out of surprise. He was glad Ice hadn’t taken him to the Miramar Health Services department – hell, he could already see a sneaky reporter getting wind of his beating and running a front page article about it. But Ice didn’t seem like the type to follow orders he clearly disagreed with.

Ice shrugged, then shocked Maverick by moving to place the cold compress back on Maverick’s forehead. His fingers brushed against Maverick’s temple, and Maverick was sure the compress wasn’t the only thing giving him shivers.

“I tried calling Goose, but he didn’t pick up, so I brought you here,” Ice said simply, kneeling before the bed and. “Now sit up straight.”

“Why?”

“So I can make sure you don’t have a concussion, idiot.”

Despite himself, Maverick groaned and laid his head back. “Don’t feel like sitting up.”

“Well, you’re going to sit up right now,” Ice repeated. “Unless you _want _a concussion, which I’ll report to Viper, and that’ll put you out for two weeks at least.”

Maverick sighed dramatically, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Ice rolling his.

“Do I have to?"

“What are you, five?” Ice scoffed.

Maverick raised his eyebrows as if considering the question seriously before he sitting up on the bed. He instantly groaned for real when the pain and exhaustion from the night caught up to his muscles. Ice sat down next to him, and Maverick could feel his body heat as the bed dipped.

Ice’s touches were gentle, but purposeful, guiding Maverick through the different exercises to test his vision and balance. It should have been awkward, sitting there in silence, but Maverick felt strangely comfortable.

“Wolf told me you’re pre-med,” Maverick said, following the movement of Ice’s finger as instructed.

“Well he wasn’t lying,” Ice quipped back.

“They make you practice this?” Maverick asked as Ice lifted his chin slightly.

Ice said nothing.

“What’s your problem with me?” Maverick said finally. Ice’s fingers froze where they’d been guiding Maverick’s jaw.

“I already told you what I think of you,” Ice said, inhaling sharply. Maverick could feel the heat from Ice’s fingertips seep into his skin. “You’re dangerous, and one day you’ll make a tackle that could cost us.”

“It was _one _tackle,” Maverick protested.

“That I’ve seen,” Ice shot back smoothly. “You have a reputation for a reason, and one tackle is all it takes. It was all it took to screw up my knee last year.”

Maverick ignored the pang in his chest when Ice mentioned his reputation, and instead his eyes fell to Ice’s left knee, which was wrapped tight in a lightweight brace.

“I’m sorry about your knee,” Maverick shrugged, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “When did…”

“Same game that Jester tore his ACL last year,” Ice interrupted. “I got away lucky.”

After a long pause, Maverick’s indignance reared its ugly head. “Look, I’m sorry about your knee, really… But I’m not going to apologize for every single thing I’ve done as a player to get where I am today. I’ve never broken anyone’s bones, and I’m a great striker.”

Again, Ice said nothing. Maverick groaned inwardly.

“Why are you even helping me?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t going to leave you for dead in the middle of an alleyway, Maverick,” Ice said, voice exasperated. He followed up by asking Maverick to push his hands up against his own to test his balance.

“You know what I mean,” Maverick said. “You could’ve dropped me off at Health Services.”

Ice stopped then, and sighed gently. He blinked, hard, before drawing back and looking at Maverick square in the eye. His gaze was sharp, but Maverick wanted nothing more than to drown in it.

“I get what it’s like to feel like you need to prove something to the world,” Ice said finally, placing his palms on Maverick’s again and pressing down gently. “Push up again,” he instructed.

Ice’s hands on his own were much softer than Maverick was expecting. _Everything _about Ice was softer than he’d first expected. His voice, the lines of his face, his touch.

“I know you overheard me and Slider talking,” Ice continued slowly.

Maverick nodded, expecting Ice to elaborate. The blond didn’t.

“The difference between you and me is that you don’t have an ounce of caution,” Ice said. “What can you prove to anyone when you’re building reputation as a dangerous player? All you’re doing is showing the recruiters why they _shouldn’t _take a risk on you.”

“Well, not all of us have exemplary self-control,” Maverick shrugged. “I didn’t train at the best schools, I’m not the biggest player on the pitch. I got here _because _I tackle hard.”

Ice hummed in response.

“Is it your parents? The ones pressuring you into making All Stars?” Maverick asked, both changing the subject and deciding _fuck it, might as well blow through every stop light._ He wanted to know Ice. And he may never get the chance to speak with him like this again. And if Ice was going to hate him anyway, Maverick might as well prod the bear.

An awkward pause followed, and stretched into a waiting game.

“My father never made it to the starting lineup at the National Team. He was stuck on the reserves for years before he eventually retired young to start his business,” Ice said. “So now he wants me to make it.”

Ice said it with such finality that Maverick knew he would be divulging no more.

“That’s a classic father-son cliché,” Maverick commented, and to the brunet’s surprise, Ice chuckled in response.

“I know how that feels,” Maverick continued, giving Ice a soft smile. “Needing to prove to people that you’re good enough…”

Ice shrugged, not making eye contact.

“But Slider’s wrong, you know,” Maverick continued softly. “You shouldn’t be pressured to push your knee. You shouldn’t hurt yourself for the game.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Ice pushed back. Maverick blinked.

“And Slider’s not pressuring me,” Ice continued, and Maverick suppressed a pout at the blond’s instant defense of his roommate. “He’s just protective.”

Another awkward silence stretched. Maverick’s eyes wandered to Ice’s desk.

“Why do you have… three, four… _five, _packs of gum on your desk?”

Ice glanced at the offending items and Maverick saw the faintest blush spread high on his cheeks.

“Better gum than stress eating,” Ice shrugged.

“You should tell Wolf that,” Maverick smiled, thinking back to the last time he’d seen Wolf at the dining hall, gorging down pancakes and waffles in one sitting, while he crammed for a biology quiz.

“Well he’s got Hollywood to keep him in check,” Ice said, smirking, though his expression then fell as he considered his statement. Maverick laughed.

“Yeah, as if Hollywood wouldn’t let him get away with just about anything,” Maverick shot back, and Ice met his gaze with warmth. “How long before they confess their love for each other, you think?”

Maverick had half meant it as a joke, but Ice grinned like a Cheshire cat… or more like a shark baring its teeth, in response.

“Slider and I have a bet going,” the blond said. “I say the end of sophomore year, but Slider thinks it’ll be this semester. I just don’t think Hollywood has the guts to ask him out.” 

“Well, it would help if Wolf was actually aware that his best friend was head over heels in love with him. Man, how long have they been like that?”

“They’re from opposite sides of the country, but they met in high school, at the Miramar football camp,” Ice said, leaning back on the palms of his hands. “Straight up in love ever since, but too dumb to make a move, either of them.”

Ice spoke about Wolf and Hollywood with a familiarity that Maverick wasn’t expecting. The team really was a big family. He didn’t think Ice was particularly close to anyone outside of Slider with the way he carried himself all cold and reserved, but he clearly knew his teammates by heart. It just made Maverick all the more aware of how much of an outsider he still was to the Miramar team.

“Well, hopefully one of them realizes how much time they’re wasting being idiots and just makes a move,” Maverick said, leaning back against the headboard.

Ice chuckled, and Maverick looked at him, smiling cheekily. He liked Ice like this. Happy, relaxed, easygoing. So different from the ice cold visage he displayed on the pitch and in the locker room.

A comfortable silence passed before Ice got to his feet. “Well, you don’t have a concussion, but you should rest some more.”

Maverick blinked. “Wh-you mean here? Rest here? In your room?”

His eyes widened when he saw the clock on the wall. It was 2:30AM.

“I’m not walking you back to your dorm,” Ice said, rubbing at his eyes. Only now Maverick realized how tired Ice looked. “It’s too late. And I’m not letting you walk back there alone in the state you’re in. So yeah, just stay where you are for the night and you can head home in the morning. Don’t be stupid.”

“Let me call Goose to pick me up,” Maverick said quickly, reaching for his phone in his pocket. He was suddenly achingly aware of where he was. He was in Ice’s _room. _In Ice’s _bed._ And Ice, blinking sleepily at him, looked nothing less than perfectly kissable._ Shit. _

“I already did, then I tried ‘Wood,” Ice responded, settling back at his desk. “Goose’s passed out on Hollywood’s couch, and by the sound of it Hollywood was close to passing out too, so…”

“Fuck,” Maverick said. “Where are you going to sleep, then?”

“There’s a couch in the common room outside.”

“I’ll take it.”

“No, you won’t,” Ice said, shutting his eyes in exasperation. “I said you don’t have a concussion, but you’re still not well. Just go back to sleep, Maverick.”

“No, no, no,” Mav said, tossing the duvet off of him and leaping to his feet. “I’m not taking your bed.”

“For fuck’s sake— Maverick!” Ice protested when stormed out the door.

Ice’s common room was dark, only the light of the moon creeping in through the window. The grey L-shaped couch was in the middle of the room facing the large TV. Maverick plopped himself down onto it and looked back at Ice indignantly.

“Fine, take the fucking couch then,” Ice sighed.

“Where’s Slider?” Maverick asked, looking at the other door labeled “RON KERNER.” Man, he wished he had his own room to himself. He hadn’t been able to secure a single room within a suite through the housing lottery, and as much as he loved Goose, he wished there was a wall to shield him from his best friend’s orchestra of snores at night. 

“He went out to a party,” Ice said, checking his watch. “He doesn’t usually come home until after breakfast.”

Maverick realized with a jolt that he’d kept Ice in on a Friday night. Taking care of _him. _

“I’m sorry if you had plans tonight,” Maverick said, looking guilty.

“I had to study late anyway,” Ice said, shrugging. His hands were deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Okay, well…”

Ice turned around and walked back into the room, leaving Maverick blinking after him. He was about to lie back down on the couch when Ice came back out, holding a light blue blanket in his hands. He threw it gently at Maverick.

“If you’re going to be stubborn, the least you can do is not freeze to death,” he grunted before disappearing back into his room.

***

_He was back in his childhood bedroom. It was still jet black, and the burly police officer’s breathing against his shoulder was hot and suffocating. Maverick stopped struggling against the man’s hold. The tears streaming down his cheeks had now reached his neck, and were bleeding into his night shirt. _

_“Duke Mitchell, you’re under arrest for the murders of Kate Vaughn, Drew Harrison—”_

_“DAD!” Maverick screamed desperately._

_“—and Diana Mitchell.”_

***

Maverick woke to the sound of his own screaming. His heart felt like it was beating on top of his chest instead of inside it, and he was choking on his own breaths.

Two hands clasped his shoulders, and when he finally calmed down he could see Ice kneeling down next to him.

“Maverick!”

His mouth hung open, breathing heavy and fast, as he made out Ice’s form in front of him. Ice’s hair was every shade of bedhead, but Maverick couldn’t even think about that for more than a second because his heart was beating too fast.

“Maverick, are you okay?” Ice’s voice—deep, rational, calm, _concerned_—broke through the chaos that was his mind.

“Yeah,” he managed to choke out. “I’m sorry.”

Ice shook his head. “Don’t be…”

“I…” Maverick trailed off, not knowing what to say. One look at the clock said it was 5AM. He hadn’t even let Ice sleep a solid 3 hours.

“Just… just try to sleep, okay?” Ice said, brows furrowed.

Maverick could already feel sleep coming to claim him again, even as he fought to stay awake. He vaguely registered the fact that Ice’s hands hadn’t left his body. 

“Thank you, Ice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'ed, all mistakes are my own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp... I've been awol for many months now. Sort of retreated off of AO3 and tumblr last year to deal with some personal stuff, and then 2020 happened (no elaboration needed here, I guess)... but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things. Not sure if anyone's still reading this BUT I randomly got back into writing this fic a few weeks ago because I really do love these characters, and it cheered me up a little bit given the tough tough state of the world at the moment. So I thought I'd post what I had because why not. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own - and I suspect there are many of them! Definitely took me a second to get back into the groove of writing. 
> 
> Feel free to swing by on my tumblr @ beside-thedyingfire! Have been sort of unresponsive lately (which is totally my bad -- life's really been hitting me hard lately, as I know it has been for many of us!) but trying to get back into things as best I can.

Maverick remembered waking somewhat peacefully, and he spared God a half-hearted thank you for not delivering him yet another nightmarish awakening.

His nightmares had only started two months after his father’s trial. Maybe that was when his mind had finally caught up to what had happened. Maybe it was then when it all finally sunk in. The fear, the loneliness, the silence in the house—the house they only let him keep because technically he was already eighteen and the sole benefactor of his father’s assets. Six months into adulthood and he wanted to run back into the safety of youth. A youth that had now been stripped away.

Goose had helped him get through the first few nightmares—that is, when Maverick had finally invited his best friend to stay over with him on a regular basis after begrudgingly admitting that he needed the help. Goose was all too happy to comply, and with his boundless joy and energy Maverick had started to feel himself come back to life. Eventually Carole began to sleep over at Maverick’s house too, and they’d taken care of him every day, whether it was over a round of Scrabble on Saturday nights, or over Carole’s homemade pancakes on a Wednesday morning. Really, he could never repay them. They were the only reason he’d been able to make it alive to graduation.

The nightmares had slowly become less and less frequent, but ever so often—and particularly after stressful nights—they’d come back like a hurricane.

Maverick yawned, stretching out on Ice’s couch. He looked up to the clock – it was 10AM – but it was only a good five minutes of staring into nothingness later when Maverick noticed the blue post-it note stuck onto his blanket.

_Take the meds on the table. One pill now, one at dinner. Don’t be stupid. _

Maverick blinked at the immaculate, cursive script, and then glanced at the bottle of painkillers and glass of water on the coffee table. He then noticed that his book bag and leather jacket were lain carefully on the carpet next to the couch. Ice’s door was closed, and something told Maverick that the blond had left for the day.

Maverick knocked back the painkiller, thinking of the night before. Ice had shown almost none of the hard, _cold _demeanor Maverick had gotten so used to. He’d taken care of Maverick with no complaints, no questions, just a steady hand and a quiet confidence. Maybe Maverick was thinking wishfully, but it had to mean that Ice didn’t completely hate him.

Right?

Maverick sat up on the couch and groaned immediately as the tension flooded his head again. He stumbled to his feet and took a few deep breaths. He needed to get it together. He had to be at practice that afternoon. After a minute or two of testing his balance by walking around Ice and Slider’s immaculately clean glass coffee table, he slipped into the bathroom.

He really shouldn’t have, because upon seeing his face in the mirror, Maverick felt sick all over again. His face was swollen and blotchy, and seemed to glow like an ominous sunset. His left eye looked like a Picasso painting—red, blue, purple, a real treat for the eye, no pun intended.

He splashed some water on his face, wincing a little. The sink was small but clean, and it was so obvious whose side was whose. On the left-hand side, a blue electric toothbrush was charging in its place, toothpaste propped up neatly next to it; on the other side an orange-and-red striped toothbrush, bristles still blue with traces of toothpaste, was dangling off the side of the sink.

Pretty much Ice and Slider as toothbrushes.

Maverick chuckled to himself at the thought and wondered for a brief moment how hard he’d hurt his head.

A moment later, he stood outside the door to Ice’s room. He knocked a few times, softly and first and then with a little more force. If Ice was still there, it didn’t feel right not saying goodbye, and a much-deserved _thank you, _before leaving.

A few more deep breaths later—_Jesus, he really was nervous wasn’t he?— _Maverick finally figured he could leave with a good conscience. After all, he didn’t want to scare Ice awake after he’d robbed him of a good night’s sleep.

Maverick immediately put his hood up as he navigated the hallways of Ice’s building and practically fast-walked like a madman through the courtyard to get to Hollywood and Wolf’s dorm. Sure, it was daytime, but Maverick still didn’t want to risk anyone seeing the bruises on his face, then recognizing him, and putting two and two together.

When Maverick reached Hollywood and Wolf’s room, he could smell the liquor in the air. It took Hollywood what seemed like an age to finally answer the door.

“Jesus _Christ, _Maverick,” he whispered blearily. “What the fuck happened?”

“Long story,” Maverick sighed as Hollywood moved aside to let him in.

Maverick took stock of the living room—if you could even call it that—when he entered, and wanted to make a joke about how he couldn’t possibly look worse than the room made him feel. Beer cans and red solo cups made up most of the floor, like a bad shag carpet, and every surface was wet with what he could only assume was liquor. He saw the remnants of a beer pong game on the dining table, and popcorn was strewn about like confetti at a parade.

In all of the mess lay Goose, stretched out on the sofa and groaning as he pressed a compress to his head. When he saw Maverick, though, he shot up like a rocket.

“Maverick?!” he nearly screamed. “What happened? Are you okay—what—”

“Hey, no, sit back down,” Maverick chuckled when he saw Goose swaying. Wolf had joined them now, looking slightly more put together in a button down and jeans, though his red eyes betrayed the long night.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Maverick explained to an enraptured audience of three what had happened the night before. When he got to the part about Ice, though, their expressions changed from horrified to intrigued.

“You spent the night at Ice’s?” Goose gasped. “This is the same Ice we’re talking about right? Blond hair, ice cold, no mistakes? Ice_man_?”

“As opposed to who, Ice_woman_?” Maverick couldn’t help himself.

“Damn,” Hollywood said, sitting cross-legged with a bottle of Gatorade in his hands. “That’s awful that it happened, but thank God Ice was there.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been,” Maverick said honestly. And now, thinking about it clearly for the first time, it was true. He really _didn’t _know if he would have made it out okay if Ice hadn’t been there. He’d probably have lain there in that alley until dawn.

“At least we know Mr. Ice Cold is capable of some compassion,” Wolf joked.

“He can’t be _that _bad,” Maverick asked, laughing.

“Nah,” Wolf responded immediately. “He’s a good guy, pretty chill off the pitch. He hangs out with us a lot actually.”

“Guy was a machine at beer pong,” Hollywood chuckled, looking back at the remaining red cups on his dining table.

“Coulda guessed that,” Maverick said. Ice would be good at beer pong. Dead center aim, and all.

“Yeah, though something happened, what—end of last year?” Hollywood asked, and Wolf nodded in affirmation. “Yeah, something happened, no idea what, but after that Ice started coming over less and less.”

“Huh,” Maverick said, interest piqued. 

“I mean, he’d still hang out with us,” Wolf said, picking at a loose thread in his shirt before Hollywood batted his hand away. “Just not as much as he used to, and he took a few days off of classes to go home before we broke for the summer last year. There was a rumor that someone in his family passed away, but no one’s been able to confirm anything.”

Maverick nodded slowly, deep in thought. He wanted to know so much more about Ice than he did.

“Yeah, that was really weird,” Goose said, his expression still baffled. “But… on the bright side, at least this has gotta mean he doesn’t hate you. I really thought he did.”

Maverick shrugged. He didn’t want to read too much into it—it would only be a recipe for letdown.

They chilled for a while in Hollywood and Wolf’s common room, and Maverick slowly began to relax. Wolf made him some coffee and Hollywood made some half-hearted attempts at cleaning before he slumped down on the couch. Goose didn’t even try to be useful, but his jokes were enough to keep the mood light and relaxing.

There was a moment when Maverick dosed off against the arm of the couch, and he overheard Wolf and Hollywood in the bathroom.

“Fuck, pass me my brush there?” Hollywood was saying. “Can’t make my fucking hair look like my head wasn’t just caught in in a tornado.”

A few seconds passed with nothing but the sound of what Maverick assumed was Hollywood’s frantic brushing.

“I like when you do your hair like that,” Wolf said softly.

Silence. And then more brushing sounds.

Maverick rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to yell, _“Kiss already, you idiots!”_

Wolf eventually left for a meeting he had with a classmate for a group project, leaving Maverick and Hollywood watching TV on the sofa while Goose dozed off in the lazy boy beside them. Hollywood got Maverick set up with a warm compress for his face and told him he could stay as long as he wanted—or, at least, until Goose was mobile enough for the two of them to get back to their own room. They had to be at football practice in a few hours, after all.

Maverick kept an eye on the clock and made a mental note to force Goose awake if he didn’t rise by noon to make sure they had enough time to get back to their dorms and shower before practice.

“So,” Maverick began as another X-Factor rerun episode aired. “When do you plan on asking Wolf out?”

Hollywood choked on his own breath.

“W-what?”

Maverick grinned. “You heard me.”

Hollywood looked at him almost helplessly before scrunching his eyes together in frustration.

“I don’t… know what you’re talking about.”

“Really, man?” Maverick said, still with a shit-eating smile on his face. “Come on. You’re not exactly subtle. Neither of you are.”

“He’s my best _friend._”

“Who you’re in love with.”

“Who I’m—”

“In love with.”

“I’m—”

“In love with Wolf.”

“_Jesus, _Maverick!”

“You can be in love with Jesus too, sure, but you’re also in love with Wolf,” Maverick said, all in one breath.

Hollywood looked just about ready to murder him.

“Fine,” he said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I… I like him, okay? Like… really like him. But we’ve been friends since summer school, and if he liked me the same way he would’ve said something by now, so I… I don’t know… I don’t want to ruin our friendship, and…” he trailed off, gesturing helplessly.

“Dude, you’re going to destroy my eyeballs with how many times I have to roll them around you,” Maverick retorted easily.

“You know, for a guy with a bruise making up fifty percent of his face, you’re talking awfully confidently,” Hollywood groaned.

Maverick pursed his lips and decided to give the guy a break. “Look, I’m not saying that I know for certain that Wolf likes you back like that. But… put it this way. I’m not what I’d call an observant guy. I’m really not. So if it’s painfully obvious to _me _that both of you are head over heels for each-other, then it’s gotta be a good bet that’s it’s true, right?”

Hollywood looked at him for a moment, eyes thoughtful.

“I second that!”

Maverick and Hollywood both jumped, visibly, at the sound of Goose’s voice. The boy still had his eyes closed, but was giving Hollywood and Maverick the thumbs up from the armchair.

“Jesus,” Hollywood whispered again before turning to Maverick. “I’ll think about telling him, okay? I mean, not that I haven’t been thinking about it, but…you know.”

“Yeah, man, I get it,” Maverick said.

With that, he and Hollywood fell into an easy silence. Goose drifted back into sleep and within a few minutes he was snoring again.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Maverick said, yawning.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just don’t let Tiger out.”

“What?”

“Tiger. Our puppy. Left her in the room for the night so the party wouldn’t scare her too much.”

“_Our _puppy? Thought she was Wolf’s,” Maverick said, another cheeky smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, fucking shut up.”

***

Saturday afternoon practices were notorious for being long, painful, and much-hated amongst the college football community, but Maverick didn’t mind them at all. Though one may not guess it from knowing him superficially, Maverick didn’t actually like to get hammered on Friday nights. He loved a good party, sure, but ever since the nightmares had started, he’d been cautious about the alcohol. Going to bed drunk often guaranteed him a nightmare, and waking up with a hangover was no easy transition from nightmare into reality. Having scheduled practice on a weekend gave him a reason to get outside early and feel useful.

Maverick arrived at the locker room with a slightly sluggish Goose in tow. Ice was already there, but before he could catch the blond’s eye, Slider came bounding into the room, shirt slung over his shoulder and muscles rippling unfairly in the daylight. 

“Where were you last night, man?” Slider asked. “Figured you’d come over once you finished your paper.”

Ice said something unintelligible, and before Maverick could eavesdrop any more, Slider spotted him.

Fuck. In his excitement about his first weekend practice, he’d completely forgotten his face. Which probably looked like a Picasso painting in broad daylight.

“What happened to _you_?” Slider asked, his voice reaching across the room.

Maverick felt himself attract everyone’s gazes like a magnet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He vaguely remembered Hollywood asking him how he was going to explain his face to everyone on the team, but in his tiredness, he had waved away the question while hauling Goose into the hallway.

“I…” he started. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

When in doubt, he always fell back on sheer arrogance to get him through things.

“Well, you look like a fuckin’ fire hydrant so it looks like it’s everyone’s business,” Slider said, his voice barely audible over his barely muffled laugh.

Maverick gritted his teeth, thinking of how to retort without starting a fight, which would _definitely _be the last straw for Viper, and he wasn’t about to risk his spot on the team.

“Come on, Slider,” Ice said suddenly, his voice soft but stern.

Maverick’s heart stuttered a little bit seeing Slider look at his best friend in confusion. Before Ice could say anything else, Slider slung an arm around him and turned them both to Viper, who had taken his place at the entrance of the room. His presence itself held command, and within a few seconds everyone had turned away from Maverick to listen to their captain. 

“All right, everyone,” Viper said, clasping his hands together. “First weekend practice. Hope none of you went too hard last night, because believe me… it’ll show out there today.”

Maverick snuck a glance at Goose, who was still wincing a little bit in the light of the room.

“Before our first season game in a few weeks, I want to test some combinations. So you’re going to be playing with some people you’re not used to linking up with,” Viper continued. “Don’t moan, don’t groan, let’s just get out there and get to it.”

Maverick nodded. His face might be black and blue, but he could make himself useful today.

***

It still surprised Maverick how skilled every single player on Miramar’s team was. Though he didn’t let it sting his confidence, he’d be crazy to admit that he was head and shoulders above everyone else. These guys were the best of the best. There was a reason the team was renowned nationwide.

Viper placed him on a team with Slider for their first scrimmage, and Maverick found that despite his intense hatred of the man, he _was _an ace of a defender. He delivered through balls with an accuracy and deftness that Maverick appreciated as a striker, and he was able to latch on to a few of them for some great opportunities on goal.

Halfway through practice, Viper beckoned him over to the sidelines.

“I want you to switch into Ice’s team,” he said. “I want to see how you play together.”

Maverick tried not to let his face give anything way. He should have known it was only a matter of time until he was placed on a team with Ice. As he made a quick move to jog back onto the pitch, Viper stopped him.

“Your face okay, Mitchell?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah!” he said immediately. “I wasn’t in a fight or anything, I just—”

“I didn’t think you were,” Viper responded slowly. “I just wanted to check if you needed anything. Wanted to make sure you were fit to play.”

“I am,” Maverick insisted. The thought of missing out on practice, on any reason to be on the pitch, had a surefire way of sending some panic through him. “I don’t have a concussion.”

_According to Ice_. It surprised him how much he instinctively trusted the blond.

“Okay,” Viper said, his eyes assessing him carefully, but not unkindly.

Maverick nodded and ran off, but he could feel Viper’s eyes trained on his back for a while.

***

While he was pretty much built on confidence, Maverick had to admit he was nervous to play alongside Ice. They both played in the same position, and though Hollywood was a striker too and very much capable of playing on the same team as Ice, Maverick and Ice played like two sides of the same coin. Maverick didn’t _do _false nine*. He was a striker through and through. Just like Ice. And what if they didn’t gel? What if Viper’s starting lineup could only have one of them in it? That would effectively have Maverick playing off the bench for the whole season.

Jester blew the whistle and Maverick left all his thoughts to the wind.

_Time to shine, honey, _his mom used to say.

Ice got the ball first, and he passed it to Maverick immediately. Maverick hadn’t been expecting it, really. He’d expected Ice to go straight for goal, but he wasn’t about to hesitate. He got around Sundown, but Wolf drove him to the far corner. Maneuvering around him wasn’t easy, and as he was looking up to send the ball across the face of the goal in the hopes that someone would chip it in past Goose, he saw Ice coming in to support him. He passed the ball back to the blond, and they did a quick one-two. Maverick stepped back around Sundown with the intention of distracting him so Ice could get a shot on target.

But instead Ice had brought the ball back beyond the penalty box, and with one precisely timed kick, set it up neatly for Maverick to slam it into goal.

One could argue that Goose should have had this one, but the ball rocketed into the net before his best friend could stop it.

“That’s it, Mav!” Cougar hollered from down the pitch.

Grinning from ear to ear, he accepted the hugs and claps on the back his teammates gave him. Scoring goals would never get old.

“Nice one,” Ice said, clasping Maverick’s hand and bringing him into a hug.

“Thanks,” Maverick said. He felt like he’d breathed the word.

And then the whistle blew again.

As Ice and Maverick found their groove, a crowd of onlookers grew on the sidelines. Viper had come over to take a closer look, and he and Jester were engrossed in conversation. The other half of the team, who were finished with their scrimmage, gathered around as well.

Maverick and Ice were, quite simply, unstoppable. Sundown and Tex were by no means average defenders, but today they looked completely out of their depth. Maverick was surprised at how quickly Ice was able to pick up on his plays, and vice versa.

Before that day, Maverick had spent a lot of time watching Ice play, but this was the first time he’d actually played on his side. And to his utmost surprise, Ice’s presence actually upped his own game. It felt strangely natural, like they’d been playing together for years. The blond challenged Maverick’s pace with clinical through passes, challenged his intellect with short passes in quick succession; and Maverick found himself challenging Ice in return. And the blond never missed a beat.

“_Fuck,_” Goose said after Ice sent yet another shot hollering into the top corner, this time after Maverick schooled Chipper in midfield and set Ice up for an easy finish. “You’re both going to be the death of me!”

When Maverick looked back at the sidelines, he saw Viper smiling in approval.

Over the next few weeks, Maverick’s confidence continued to grow during practice. Though he never summoned the courage to actually speak to Ice off the pitch, never really thanked him like he should have for rescuing that night, he found himself speaking to him in passes and drills, scrimmages and team bear hugs.

Maverick didn’t just find his groove with Ice, either. He learned to tell when Sundown was feeling confident about going in for a header, learned that Chipper had speed like a cheetah and even more so when you could get the ball to him early, learned that while Hollywood was ambidextrous he much preferred his left foot. He even found himself jiving well on the pitch with Slider, who had slowly begun to warm up to him. 

And for the first time in a long time, he really started to feel like he belonged somewhere outside of his small circle with Goose and Carole. He really felt like he could be happy again.

***

The morning of the first game of the season, Maverick was dancing on cloud nine. And he fully intended to win the game and stay there.

He and Goose got to the dining hall around 6am and made their way to the long table at the back that was typically reserved for the football team on game days. Ice and Slider were already there. Slider was making his way through a large bowl of cereal and Ice had arranged two hardboiled eggs, a bowl of oatmeal, and an array of fruit on his plate.

“Hey y’all,” Goose said. “Ready to kick some Belmont ass?”

Slider met Goose halfway with a bear hug, and Ice just watched the two with amused eyes. After grabbing himself a plateful of eggs and sausages and a glass of orange juice, Maverick sat himself next to the blond.

“Hey,” he said, instantly regretting how shy and out of character he sounded. Though by now he could probably pass a ball to Ice on the pitch with his eyes closed, he still struggled with basic speech when it came to the blond.

“Maverick,” Ice said, popping a melon slice into his mouth. “You feeling ready?”

“Yeah,” Maverick said, nodding fiercely. What he really wanted to say was _thank you for saving me that night. I’m sorry I never thanked you for that properly. I should have. I should hav—_ “Hoping I’m not nixed from the starting lineup.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Ice said easily.

Occasionally, he’d see students come up to them to wish them good luck. Many were dressed in Miramar merchandise; the university always had a large crowd show up for home games, and this was the very first one to kick off the season.

By then, several other players had arrived for breakfast, including Cougar, Wolf, and Hollywood. A woman was sat next to Wolf, dressed in a Miramar hoodie and cap. She was beaming at Wolf with pride, and it took Maverick a moment to realize it was Wolf’s mother.

“Well your dad and I will be on the _east _bleachers, so if you’re looking for us just… well, you know,” she was saying.

“Okay, mom,” Wolf said, his confident tone not masking the fierce blush on his cheeks. “I’ll see both of you after, okay?”

“Okay dear,” she said, standing up. She gave her son one last hug and turned to her other side to address Hollywood. “And you too, Rick, of course. You’re both going to do so well out there. Thank you for always looking out for my boy.” 

“Of course, ma’am,” Hollywood said, grinning amusedly.

As Wolf’s mother left, Maverick noticed a few other players chatting with their parents, all of whom looked ecstatic and proud. He felt a pang of sadness knowing he’d never have that, never hear his parents cheering him on from the bleachers, never celebrate a win with them. When he sat back down, Ice was looking at him.

“Always happens for the first game, then they ease off,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“The parents.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Your dad—I mean, parents—not here?” Maverick asked, kicking himself inwardly.

“Not _here, _no,” Ice said. “But they’ll be at the game. My dad prefers to see me after the game, not before, you know.”

The “you know” wasn’t really a question, and Maverick just nodded.

He opened his mouth to say something, _anything, _really, just to keep talking to Ice.

“Hey, Wolf!” a voice called.

Maverick turned to see a brunette student walk up to their table. He recognized her as the junior Wolf was working on a econ group project with. Her hair was done up in a neat ponytail, and she was wearing a Miramar t-shirt that was tied in a knot at her waist. She had a wonderful smile that reminded Maverick a lot of Carole.

Wolf looked up from his omelet.

“Oh hey, Charlotte,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to wish you good luck,” she said, leaning in to give the winger a hug.

“Thanks!” Wolf said, chuckling. “Hopefully I come away without an injury or red card.” 

“I’m sure you will,” she laughed. “And, uh…”

Wolf tilted his head in confusion. “You okay?”

Charlotte laughed nervously and then shook her head.

“Yeah, it’s nothing, I was just… uh… wondering if you’d like to maybe grab a bite tonight? With me?”

Maverick’s eyes widened and he leaned in—subtly, hopefully—to eavesdrop. Beside him, he noticed Goose doing the same.

Wolf blinked, his mouth opening and closing in confusion.

“I mean, to celebrate, you know?” Charlotte added, her voice growing more nervous.

Beside Wolf, Hollywood stiffened, fork halfway into his cereal bowl. He was looking straight down at the table, but it didn’t take a genius to know he was eavesdropping too.

“Sorry, I… I know it’s probably not a good time to ask you out on a date, but I—”

“No!” Wolf cut in suddenly. “Don’t apologize. Yeah, I—yeah. Let’s go for dinner tonight.”

Charlotte’s face lit up, but from Maverick’s vantage point all he could see was Hollywood’s face falling.

“Awesome!” Charlotte said.

“Although, if we lose it won’t really be a celebration,” Wolf was saying nervously. “Just want to warn you.”

“Well, this way you have something to look forward to either way?” Charlotte said. If she weren’t potentially breaking up two people Maverick considered now to be two of his closest friends, he’d be rooting for her. She seemed confident, kind, witty.

Wolf laughed nervously. “Yeah.”

Hollywood got up suddenly, his hand wrapped tightly around his glass of water. He disappeared in the direction of the water dispenser, though his glass was still more than half full.

Maverick watched him go, biting his lip.

***

An hour later, Maverick’s trip to cloud nine showed no signs of ending. Viper had named him in the starting lineup.

_“I’ve thought about this long and hard with Ice and Jester, and we’re confident with this first starting lineup. We’re playing 4-3-3. Goose in goal; Sundown, Slider, Tex, and Merlin in defense; me, Cougar, and Wolf in midfield; ‘Wood, Ice, and Maverick up front. We’ll try a level front line, but ‘Wood will drop into a false nine if the midfield needs more support. We play a high defensive line until we can’t.”_

This was his dream. To be a starter for a world-class college football team. He felt like he’d finally made it. _And _Viper had given him the #10 jersey. He’d wear it with pride.** And he would do everything in his power not to fuck it up. Belmont University had a pretty good team, and he’d learned the hard way never _ever _to underestimate your opponent.

As Maverick and the team warmed up on the pitch, he relished in the sight of the bleachers filling up with fans. He saw a small portion of away fans too, on the north end of the pitch, but they were engulfed in Miramar supporters. He tried to look for Carole, his only friend who wasn’t on the pitch with him, but it was impossible to spot her amongst all the people.

When the two teams lined up next to each other, Maverick snuck a glance at his competition. Belmont’s captain—callsign _Batman_—was a staggering 6’6, but Viper cut an equally imposing figure beside him. Maverick had studied up on this team; most of Belmont’s team were upperclassmen, and experience was on their side today. But Maverick placed his faith in Viper. He knew the senior had assembled a squad capable of getting the job done. And practice over the past few weeks had done nothing but bolster their confidence.

Minutes later, when the starting whistle sounded, Maverick came alive.

The first 10 minutes of the game were antsy and nervous, much to the crowd’s chagrin. In the 7th minute, Belmont’s keeper fumbled an easy save and Ice was only a step away from chipping the ball into the goal; reciprocating the stupid mistake, a few minutes later Hollywood misjudged a pass and sent it straight to Belmont’s center forward, who was through on goal for an agonizing few seconds. Slider busted his ass to reach him and was able to pull out a clean tackle before the striker reached Goose.

Belmont struck first in the 20th minute, sending the crowd into uproar. Batman sent a perfect through ball to set up one of his strikers, Ghost, for the finish. Tex came in for a well-timed tackle, but Ghost was able to maneuver around it. Instead of going for the goal himself, Ghost lobbed the ball in, and his teammate, Slayer, was the one to seal the deal. The crowd was in uproar because the goal scorer looked like he’d used half his arm to chest the ball down before ramming it past Goose. They were calling for a hand ball, but the referee overruled it.

And Maverick agreed. He’d had a pretty good view of it, and it wasn’t a handball. As much as he wanted to win, he wasn’t going to protest a good call.

With Miramar a goal down, the supporters in the stands pulled for them, and Maverick saw what a difference it made playing on home turf.

Viper called for a formation adjustment, with Hollywood slipping back into his preferred false 9 position and Cougar moving up to support Ice and Maverick. Within a few minutes, the change was noticeable. Miramar got into a groove and made several dangerous attempts on goal, getting a few shots off courtesy of Ice and Maverick.

Their opportunity came in the 43rd minute, just before half time. Cougar picked the ball up in midfield, and Viper, ever the conductor, passed it up the midfield with ease, coordinating flawlessly with Cougar before dispatching Wolf down the wing. Wolf always joked that his crosses could find Hollywood in the dark, and this was no exception. Wolf sent a perfect ball flying and Hollywood latched onto it. He whipped it across the face of the goal, and Ice nicked it in with ease.

“Yes!” Maverick yelled as his teammates came running like moths to Ice’s flame. They buried him in a hug, Ice mouthed a “thank you” to ‘Wood for the assist, and Maverick found himself hopelessly drunk on the intensity in the blond’s fierce blue eyes.

Huddled together in the locker room during halftime, Viper gave them a rousing pep talk.

“Listen,” he said, but they already were, intently. “That was a good half, but we can’t lose our focus. We’ve got momentum, so we need to keep the intensity high.”

He then looked around at them one by one.

“Slider, you need to get back quicker to help Tex out when their wingers have the ball; Tex you need to come up higher and cut their strikers off on those long passes; Hollywood, you’re losing a little focus in midfield so just check yourself there; and I want Ghost double-marked at all times, got it?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative.

“You okay?” Maverick saw Wolf whisper to Hollywood. Though ‘Wood was still delivering at an insanely high level, Maverick noticed that he’d been a little off his best form.

Hollywood nodded immediately, his eyes gleaming with that fake kind of confidence that Maverick often saw in people who _weren’t _okay but _had _to be.

As they prepared to head back out, Maverick found himself in conversation with Ice.

“Their defense is weaker on the left, so if we can exploit that I think we can get a few more shots on target,” Ice was saying.

Maverick nodded. He’d noticed that too.

“I think we have this,” he said, hoping to speak it into existence.

“_Think _we do? Where’s that shit-eating confidence of yours, Mav_-erick?_,” Ice said, shooting Maverick an amused smile.

A laugh escaped Maverick’s lips before he could stop it. Ice never failed to surprise him.

“I know we have this,” Maverick corrected himself.

***

And, as always, Ice was right.

Within a few minutes of the restart, Maverick hit gold, though one could argue that luck played a big part. Belmont struggled to clear the ball after Cougar had sent a Hail Mary from halfway down the pitch, and while the defense panicked Maverick whipped the ball—with not much force—at the goal, hoping to maybe get a corner out of it. But the ball bounced awkwardly off the turf and slipped past the goalkeeper unexpectedly. It wasn’t the most glamorous shot to start his official goal-scoring record with Miramar, but a goal was a goal.

Maverick laughed when he saw Goose running all the way from his goalposts to congratulate him.

“That’s your first goal of the season, you crazy motherfucker,” Goose said, sandwiching Maverick’s head between his hands. “First of many.”

Maverick grinned back at his best friend until Viper yelled at Goose to get back in goal.

The second Miramar goal must have really rattled Belmont, because from there the game really opened up. Maverick, Hollywood, and Ice missed a few key chances, and Maverick could see Viper getting frustrated at the team for not capitalizing on their opportunities. A one-goal lead was too precarious.

Viper subbed Hollywood out in the 60th minute and brought on Chipper, who, on his very first touch, got himself a yellow card for a mistimed tackle. He gave the referee an earful.

“You’re okay, ease up and slow it down,” Ice called over to his younger teammate. He motioned his hands downwards, as if to say _relax, relax. _

In the 68th minute, seemingly according to script, Ice decided to take matters into his own hands. After winning a free kick just outside the penalty box, he sent a delicious free kick curling into the top left hand corner. And even before Ice’s foot touched the ball, Maverick knew the keeper had no fucking chance. Ice’s free kicks were second to none. There was no point denying it anymore. Maverick’s free kicks were great—perfect, he used to think— but he had a way’s to go before reaching Ice’s level of devastating precision.

About ten minutes later, Sundown scored a perfect header from Wolf’s fierce corner kick, and they were soaring at 4-1. Play slowed down a little bit, but Maverick didn’t. He was happy with a 4-1 win and his first goal of the season, but he always wanted more.

_Greedy fucker, _Goose would say.

Ice picked up the ball in midfield and did a quick one-two with Wolf before dribbling down the left side. Maverick came in to help him, and Ice found him between all the bodies. Maverick did a quick no-look pass back to Ice before the blond returned the ball with equal ease.

He didn’t even think about it when he shot for goal.

He almost didn’t register that his shot had gone in until Ice’s arms were around him, tugging at him.

“Yes, Maverick!” Ice’s voice was shouting in his ear, and before he could truly appreciate it he felt Goose, Chipper, Wolf, Sundown…

_Buck up, cloud nine, cause I’m here for the long haul, _he thought.

As they headed into stoppage time and minutes were dwindling down, Maverick ran up to take a corner on the north side of the pitch. He was lining up the ball when he felt a sudden blunt impact on his side. He let out a shout of surprise as the force of it brought him onto one knee. Maverick stared at the glass bottle—that had just been hurled at him—lying on the grass next to him. That was followed by several other items hurled his way. He backed up quickly, palming the side of his hip where the bottle had hit. He looked up into the stands and saw the angry faces of the Belmont fans. He didn’t realize there was _such _a rivalry between the two teams. But then he heard the chants.

“Fucking psychopath!”

“Son of a murderer!”

“Fuck Duke Mitchell!”

Maverick’s blood turned to ice. He stood there for what felt like an eternity until he was being pulled back by… well, he didn’t even know by who. He barely registered the whistle being blown hastily, the sound of someone’s voice—was it Goose?—asking him if he was okay. When sense finally found him again, he found himself making his way unceremoniously into the dugout and through to the locker room.

The locker room was empty, which meant that he’d beaten the team there. Were they still on the pitch? Maverick had no idea what was going on anymore but he couldn’t breathe. He sat down on one of the benches and put his head between his knees.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. _He needed to get it together. He felt like throwing up and throwing a tantrum all at once.

“M-Maverick? You okay?”

Maverick looked up and saw a nervous freshman defender, callsign _Stallion_, looking at him with wide eyes.

A few painfully awkward seconds passed with Maverick trying to find the right words without yelling at this poor first-year.

“Stallion.”

It was Ice. Maverick could recognize his voice anywhere.

“Go join the team out there, they’re celebrating,” Ice continued, nudging Stallion gently. Stallion scurried off without further prompting.

A few more seconds passed, and Maverick still couldn’t find any words. His tongue felt like lead.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was thanking Ice for—for rescuing him that night, for making him a better player, for steadying him even when he wasn’t aware he needed steadying? For all of the above?

Before he could stop it, another wave of panic struck him and he stood abruptly.

“_Fuck!_” he almost screamed, pacing around the room. He probably looked like a madman. “I want to punch something. Those fucking—_fuckers, _out there, I—”

And then he felt Ice’s hand on his shoulder, another on his cheek.

“Hey,” Ice said softly but insistently. Maverick met his eyes. They really weren’t ice cold. They were warm like the ocean on a summer day, like the sea before a storm, like coming up for fresh air.

“You’re okay,” Ice whispered, his hand still cupping Maverick’s cheek. “Just look at me.”

Maverick’s erratic breathing still betrayed him.

“I have you,” Ice continued, his eyes never wavering. “Punching a wall won’t do anything but damage your hand, okay? Those Belmont supporters out there are cowards. And if Viper has anything to say about it—if _I _have anything to say about it—they’ll be banned from Miramar games for life. They’re just cowards and they have _nothing _on you.”

To Maverick’s surprise, Ice’s words began to soothe the white-hot anger he was so familiar with. There was a reason that Goose and Carole always left him alone when he was incensed. No one had ever been able to coax him back from the edge when he was _this _angry. Once he felt like punching a wall, _he’d punch a wall. _

“Ice,” he breathed instead, feeling the blond’s aching sureness tug him back into reality.

Ice’s breathing slowed; he was so close to him he could feel it.

“I thought you said I was dangerous,” he whispered instead, eyes questioning.

“You are, sometimes,” Ice said softly, a whisper of a chuckle gracing his lips. “But not to me.”

Maverick felt his cheek heating up where Ice was touching it. Ice blinked then, and Maverick saw a flicker of—was it hesitation?

Maverick’s mind and voice finally caught up to him.

“Thank you for helping me that night,” he said suddenly, his voice a barely-audible whisper. “I never thanked you properly… should have.”

Ice nodded slowly, his hand moving gently on Maverick’s face. Maverick’s breath hitched and the warmth from Ice’s hand spread down his neck.

Maverick wasn’t sure what would have happened next, wasn’t sure he would have controlled himself, had the team not bustled down through the dugout, making enough noise to wake a neighborhood. Ice took a step away, taking his hands off of Maverick. Or was it Maverick who stepped away first? He didn’t know.

Next thing he knew, Goose was at his side, and his teammates were fussing over him worriedly. But when he caught Ice’s eyes again through the crowd, the blond was smiling back at him.

And his heart was steady again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A traditional #9 plays in a center forward position and stays pretty high up on the pitch like a typical striker (think Cristiano Ronaldo/Fernando Torres). The False 9 position, however, is essentially one of a "decoy" striker who drops deep into midfield and interplays with wingers, etc (IRL, Lionel Messi's a commonly referenced example of a False 9). This position creates confusion for defenders in the opposing team, because the False 9 tends to be a difficult player to track/cover, given how much they move around on the pitch. In this fic, Hollywood can play as a traditional #9 striker, but he prefers the False 9 position (probably because he links up so well with Wolf, who plays on the wing!).
> 
> **Jersey numbers: Ice = 7, Maverick = 10, Hollywood = 9, Goose = 1, Wolf = 13, Viper = 6, Cougar = 8, Slider = 5, Sundown = 3, Tex = 2, Merlin = 15, Chipper = 4. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not a football tactician/expert, and I haven't played since high school, so I apologize if it doesn't read super realistic (especially for readers who actually play!). I'm a huge football fan, though, so most of my imperfect knowledge comes from that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp... This was really just meant to be a filler chapter but it kind of skyrocketed into this. A lot of these scenes are kind of random and just flew out of me, but I just went with it so I'm sorry if they seem a little disjointed! I've outlined the next chapter, and it'll have much more plot development. 
> 
> I'm glad folks are still reading and enjoying this! I appreciate the lovely feedback :) Writing this fic is doing loads to cheer me up these days.

It had been a long time since Maverick felt this safe. It was a weird feeling – safety. Maverick had grown used to living life both on the edge and _on _edge. It was almost like he didn’t remember ever feeling any differently. But when Goose crushed him in the biggest hug and he heard his teammates ranting about the atrocity, the _audacity, _of the Belmont supporters, Maverick felt like, for once, he didn’t have to face it all on his own. And his teammates weren’t just angry because the supporters had thrown bottles on the pitch; they were angry because they’d hurt _Maverick. _They cared about him.

“I swear to God, if I see any of them on the street I’ll knock the living daylights out of them,” Wolf was shouting. If the atmosphere weren’t so tense, Maverick would have laughed out loud because even at 6’0 tall, the southerner was really as harmless as a puppy.

As tensions settled and Maverick reassured his teammates that he was, really, okay, they slowly made their way out of the locker rooms. They had a win to celebrate, after all. Maverick was caught up in all of it, and he didn’t mind. Flanked by Goose on one side and Cougar on the other, he felt none of the anger and fear he’d so recently almost given into.

As the team made its way across the campus grounds, they were greeted by a crowd of lingering supporters who cheered them on.

“Hey, Pete Mitchell, you fucker!”

The entire team turned, like a pack of wolves smelling blood, at the sound. It was a Belmont supporter, dressed in a bright purple sweatshirt bearing his school’s emblem. His face was twisted with hate. Before Maverick could say anything, Slider cut in.

“Go to hell, asshole!” he yelled.

The boy stepped forward—_fucking idiot_, Maverick thought— but stopped in his tracks when Slider met him halfway and looked ready to clock him in the face. The boy, whose senses must have just caught up with him, turned tail. _Yeah_, an angry Slider had that effect on people.

Maverick heard a squeal, and suddenly warm hands were around him and a familiar perfume flooded his senses.

“Carole!” he laughed.

“Oh my _God,_” she nearly screamed. Her face was a mixture of excited and worried, but she looked put together as ever. “Are you okay, honey? You did so well!”

Goose came in for a group hug and a quick kiss. Carole happily joined the team as they continued to make their way across the quad and towards the dorms on the east side of campus.

“Where’s Ice?” Maverick asked, looking around after a few minutes.

“Stayed back with Viper,” Goose said. “Captain and vice have to stay around after the game for interviews; school paper, sports channels, you know?”

As they settled naturally in the suite that Hollywood and Wolf shared with Sundown and Chipper, Maverick cracked open a beer and readied himself for a fun night. He and Goose played several rounds of beer pong against Sundown and Chipper, and Maverick graced the team with his karaoke rendition of _You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling_. Carole instantly charmed the team with her sharp wit and sense of humor, and before long she was teaching them how to play—and subsequently schooling them at—numerous card games.

“Where’s Wolf?” Chipper asked about an hour into the festivities, launching himself onto the sectional.

“Out on a _date_,” Sundown called back, grinning. “Man, never thought I’d see the day that boy got asked out on a date. And by Charlotte Blackwood, no less.”

Hollywood, who was just returning from grabbing another deck of cards, stopped in his tracks and hastily turned back to his bedroom. Maverick, who was a couple drinks in at this point and awfully comfortable in the lazy boy, motioned at Goose animatedly.

“Cheer him up! Go!” he insisted.

Goose looked bewildered for a second and nodded vigorously before disappearing into Hollywood’s room. Minutes later he saw the two starting up a game of FIFA. As someone who’d never managed to beat Goose at FIFA, Maverick chuckled when he saw Goose _definitely _letting Hollywood win.

An hour into the festivities, and exhausted from yet another round of beer pong, Maverick wandered the room lazily and ended up out on the deck that overlooked Belmont University’s Griffin Quadrangle. The fresh air was nice and welcome, and it sky was beautifully clear. It took him a few minutes to notice Slider standing in the corner with a beer in hand, gazing out at the quad.

“Hey,” Maverick said, not knowing if Slider had seen him.

“Yo,” Slider said, taking another swig of his beer.

“Getting pretty crazy in there,” Maverick said, trying to think of filler conversation topics he could spout out before making a plausible excuse to go back inside.

“Yeah, well,” Slider said. He looked strangely calm, quiet, so unlike the loud and boisterous guy Maverick had come to know. He checked his watch. “It’s midnight now, so only about half an hour before someone—probably Chipper—throws up. Then Hollywood will throw his classic fit about ‘_who’s going to clean this?’ _before passing out himself, and then Viper will straighten everyone out and make sure they get home safe. Then Wolf will drag Hollywood into bed, and we’ll clean up after.”

“You stay to clean up?” Maverick scoffed.

Slider rolled his eyes at him before looking away again.

“Wolf isn’t here tonight, so you’re probably on your own.”

“Well fuck that, then, I ain’t doing it alone,” Slider shrugged. “Oh yeah, Wolf’s out with Charlotte right? Can’t wait to see that pan out.”

Maverick chuckled in response.

“Ice still not back yet?” Maverick asked. He’d noticed Viper join in the festivities earlier but there had been no sign of the blond.

Slider shook his head before sighing heavily.

“You okay?”

Slider shrugged and stretched his arms, flexing the muscles in his neck. He really was built like a Greek God, and if Maverick wasn’t half in love with Ice already he’d admit that he was a pretty attractive man.

“Yeah,” he said. And after a few seconds, “I know you overheard me and Ice talking in the locker rooms.”

“Ice told you?”

“Nah, I saw you on the way out,” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence followed.

“He was going to see his father after the game,” Slider said finally, twirling his empty beer bottle across the palm of his hand. “And typically when that lasts more than an hour… It’s just no good.”

Maverick’s heart jolted immediately.

“He’s really a dick, isn’t he? Ice’s father?” Maverick asked, leaning back on the railing and looking down at his shoes.

Slider nodded.

“Yeah, he really fucking is.”

“What more could he want from Ice?” Maverick wondered out loud, the frustration creeping into his voice.

“Score more and drop pre-med; that’s what,” Slider said, disdain dripping like venom from every word.

“But, Ice wants to be a doctor,” Maverick thought out loud.

“Yeah, his dad doesn’t really care what he wants,” Slider said tiredly. “But he’s the one who calls the shots.”

Another silence followed.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Slider regarded him with a furrowed brow, as if he were angry and didn’t know how to verbalize it. Eventually, he shrugged again and threw his beer bottle into a nearby trash can.

“Sorry about what I said in the locker room,” he said instead. “That first day.”

Maverick scoffed before he could help himself.

“You’re just realizing now that I deserve an apology for that?”

“Don’t fucking test me.”

“I’m not testing you,” Maverick said. “I’m just—”

“They twisted my arm, okay?” Slider said, raising his hands in defense. “But I am. I’m sorry. That good enough for you, god dammit?”

Maverick chuckled, took mock-aim, and threw his bottle cap at the trash can. It missed.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, it is.”

"Fucking asshole."

Wolf didn’t come home that night, but Maverick stayed to help Slider clean up.

***

The next morning, Maverick left a snoring Goose and swung back by Hollywood and Wolf’s in search of his missing shin guards. He swore he’d pulled them off at some point during the eventful night.

“Hey,” Wolf said, answering the door within seconds of him knocking. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower; his white shirt was wet and his hair was still dripping.

“Hey yourself,” Maverick said. He spotted his shin guards leaning against one of the dinner table chairs immediately upon entering.

The room looked much cleaner than he thought it had been when he and Slider left last night – either the four suitemates had done some major cleaning that morning, or Maverick and Slider did a damn good job cleaning up.

On the wall beside the door to Hollywood and Wolfman’s room was a canvas print of the map of the United States. There was a red star marking South Carolina, where Wolf was from, and a blue star marking Washington state, where Hollywood grew up. Suddenly distracted, Maverick looked at the curve of the San Diego bay wistfully. Though Maverick was born just outside of the city, he’d spent most of his life on the East Coast near Baltimore. He’d grown up dreaming of returning to San Diego to play for Miramar, but he didn’t think it would under these circumstances — _forced to Hedgestone after his father’s arrest and accepted to Miramar by the seat of his pants._

He shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Where is everyone?” he asked Wolf, packing his shin guards into his backpack.

“Sundown and Chipper are out at the gym and Hollywood’s at his psych lab,” Wolf responded, yawning.

As Maverick turned back to face Wolf, he heard the sound of scampering paws on the carpet. He saw a small brown and grey puppy running over to him, tripping over its own paws in the process. Maverick snickered and got down onto his knees, and seconds later he had a chest full of dog.

“Hey Tiger!” he laughed as she licked stripes all over his face.

“She likes you!” Wolf exclaimed, eyes glimmering with excitement. “Well, she likes everyone really. Gets real excited about everything.”

Maverick ruffled Tiger’s fur.

“Only Hollywood can calm her down once she really gets going,” Wolf said, beckoning Tiger over. She happily complied. He stroked her fur happily and she settled on his lap.

Maverick didn’t have much on his schedule for the day so he stayed and hung out with Wolf for a while. He tried to prolong it as much as he could, but it was only a matter of time before his curiosity took over and he asked about Wolf’s night.

“So what time did you get in last night?” Maverick asked. “Slider and I were the last ones out at around 3.”

“Yeah, well, I…” Wolf started nervously. “I just…

Maverick chuckled. “You can say you spent the night with Charlotte.”

Wolf shook his head immediately. “I didn’t, though!”

“Huh?”

“I mean… I went to dinner with her, but I didn’t spend the night with her.”

“Then where were you?”

A long pause followed.

“The library.”

“What?” Maverick asked, wondering if his hangover had really subsided.

“I… I didn’t want to come back,” he said slowly. “I couldn’t, ya know?”

“No, I don’t know."

Wolf groaned, startling Tiger, who readjusted herself on his lap.

“Did the date go… well?” Maverick asked, trying to judge the myriad of emotions playing out on Wolf’s face.

“No!” he said quickly. “I mean, yes… no—I don’t know! No! It didn’t. But not cause of her. She’s really great.”

“Right,” Maverick said slowly.

“I just don’t like her like that, okay?” Wolf confessed, falling back onto the sectional. Tiger scampered away.

Maverick nodded and decided now was as good a time as ever to go in for the bullseye.

“So when are you going to ask Hollywood out, then?”

Wolf jolted back up.

“What?” he squeaked.

_Wolf? More like Mouse, _Maverick had to bite his tongue from saying.

Wolf looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, and Maverick just stared back, one eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wolf stuttered. Maverick had never seen the young Southerner look this nervous.

“You like him, so just get on it,” Maverick said, shrugging.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” Maverick asked, though not unkindly.

Wolf screamed half-internally before getting up and pacing. He gestured wildly, trying to find the right words.

“Do you know why we call him Hollywood?” he whisper-screamed at Maverick.

“Because he’s obsessed with his hair? I don’t know,” Maverick shot back. “What does it matter?”

“It matters!” Wolf insisted, his southern accent more prominent the angrier he became. “He looks, you know, like a movie star!”

“Good for him! So what?!”

“So what?!” Wolf asked, dropping back down onto the sectional and sighing deeply, defeated. “He looks like a movie star and I look like a sack of potatoes. _That’s_ what.”

Maverick’s gaze sobered, and he looked at Wolf for a while in silence.

“You fucking idiot,” he said finally, though his voice was much kinder now. “You don’t look like a fucking sack of potatoes, man, what the fuck. There’s a reason Charlotte _Blackwood _asked you out. _And _you’re an insanely good footballer. Best winger Miramar’s seen in ‘in a decade’; yeah, I saw the MSNBC article on the Miramar team last year.” 

“I just… I don’t want to fuck it up,” Wolf admitted, his usually worry-free demeanor marred with concern. “And it’s not just the looks either. He’s a city boy, born and raised, and I’m a country bum. He knows everything I don’t know about _life. _3.8 GPA, top striker, he’s organized as _fuck_, I mean he organized Tiger’s whole eating and walking schedule, he helps me with my budget, my homework_, _and I just… I’m a mess.”

“I get it, man,” Maverick interjected. “You’re scared. You’re scared because you like him, and he’s your best friend. But you can’t let that fear hold you back. Think of everything you _could _have with him.”

Wolf furrowed his brow and seemed to contemplate Maverick’s words. After a few minutes, he groaned launched himself backwards again onto the couch.

“Wanna play FIFA?”

***

After playing a few too many rounds and leaving Wolf halfway into a Harry Potter film, Maverick headed out for a late breakfast. He found himself taking a few detours, skirting the campus’ west side, which overlooked the ocean. He walked along the water for longer than he ever had before, breathing in the salty air. Miramar’s campus was beautiful this time of year; it seemed to come alive with the orange and yellow hues of fall.

As he made his way back up the hill towards the center of campus, Maverick came upon a small café nestled on a quiet street corner. He’d fully intended to grab breakfast at the dining hall, but at the smell of baked goods he changed his mind.

He pushed the door open, stepping over himself gracelessly as he ambled into the small space. It was a quaint little café with fresh cut flowers in small vases on every table. He scanned the menu and wondered how many different treats he could get away with eating while the season was going on.

As he was deliberating, his eyes caught side of a familiar face just beyond the long counter. It was Ice. And his father. There was no doubt about it; they shared the same blond hair, same jaw, same hard stare. Ice was nursing a cappuccino, his companion some kind of green smoothie concoction. They seemed to be engrossed in a quiet conversation, but Maverick had never seen Ice that tense. The young blond’s jaw was clenched so hard it was almost trembling, and his right hand was curled into a fist on the table.

Suddenly, his father was saying something loudly enough for Maverick to hear its volume, but not loudly enough for him to hear the words over the sound of the coffee machine whirring.

“_Fucking think, _for once!”

_That _Maverick heard. Ice flinched ever so slightly, uncurling his fist. It made Maverick’s blood boil seeing someone talk to Ice like that.

Ice opened his mouth and started to say something, but his father cut him off, swatting Ice’s other hand off the table fiercely.

Not one to sit still when incensed, Maverick ignored the waitress at the cash register asking him for his order and stalked towards Ice’s table without thinking about what a _stupid idea this could be. _

“Ice!” he said as confidently as he could, his brain fumbling for an impromptu plan.

Ice’s gaze locked onto his immediately, and his blue eyes widened in confusion.

“Maverick,” he said, voice surprisingly—though maybe not surprisingly—level. He cleared his throat. “Dad, this is Maverick. Mitchell.”

Ice’s father tilted his head towards Maverick, eyes judging, and Maverick had never wanted to punch someone so much in his life.

“Ah,” he said. “Pete Mitchell. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, words sliding off his tongue like honey. He slipped the fakest smile he could on his face.

Ice was still looking at him questioningly.

“What’s up?” he asked.

_Right. Think of something._

“Viper’s called an emergency practice,” he declared, hopefully with some urgency. “I came here to find you. We’ve got to go now.”

“Viper didn’t call you, Ice?” his father asked, voice hard.

After a breath of a silence, Ice responded, “My phone’s on silent.”

“You didn’t think to check it at all?”

Ice motioned to fish his phone out of his pocket, but Maverick cut in first.

“Emergency practice,” he reemphasized loudly, and now Ice paused again, bewildered. “We really have to go. Viper sent me to get you immediately.”

“How’d you know Ice was here?” his father asked suddenly. “You having breakfast off campus a lot, son?”

Ice shook his head. Maverick was about to cut in again when Ice responded.

“I told him,” he said easily. “Texted him this morning.”

“Yeah,” Maverick responded immediately. “I asked Ice if he wanted to hit up the library, but he was coming here so…”

“Didn’t know you were friends,” his father responded slowly, almost carefully.

Maverick stopped himself from responding with, _Surprise, bitch! _

“Again, we really should go,” Maverick insisted. “Emergency practice, you know. _Emergency_.”

Ice nodded and reached for his wallet.

“I’ll take care of it, son,” his father said, gripping Ice’s hand a little too tightly.

“Thank you,” Ice nodded. “See you later dad.”

Maverick practically _dragged _Ice out of the café, his nails digging into the blond’s arm. For a moment, their fingers interlaced as they jogged down the street.

“What’s going on Mitchell?” Ice asked when they’d rounded the corner. “Did Slider tell you where I was?”

“What?” Maverick breathed, still recovering from the entire interaction with Ice’s father.

“Viper didn’t call me,” Ice said, looking at his phone.

“There is no emergency practice,” Maverick responded.

Ice’s brow furrowed immediately. “What?”

“I made it up,” Maverick shrugged.

Ice blinked.

“I wanted to get you out of there,” Maverick admitted finally. “The way he was talking to you, I just…”

Ice had grown silent next to him and the potentially consequences of his actions began to dawn on Maverick.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” he said softly. “I thought you’d caught on when you said you’d texted me this morning.”

“I didn’t,” Ice shook his head, looking uncharacteristically stunned. “I should have.”

Maverick, not knowing what else to say, merely nodded. They started walking again, and Maverick couldn’t help but remember how their fingers had interlocked just moments before. They walked back up the hill towards campus, and the silence between them was comfortable. Safe. This was the first time Maverick had really interacted with Ice outside of the context of football, and he desperately wanted it to be the first of many.

He turned his head suddenly when he registered that Ice was chuckling.

“What?” Maverick asked.

“I can’t believe you made up a fucking emergency practice,” Ice said, shaking his head. His smile was so bright that Maverick knew without a shadow of a doubt that standing up to Ice’s father would always have been worth it.

“I mean,” Maverick shrugged. “It was either that or an emergency study question, and I figured even your dad could see I wasn’t the intellectual type.”

Ice laughed again, and this time Maverick joined him.

“Only you, Maverick,” Ice said, almost offhandedly, though his eyes were steady and grateful. "Thank you."

“Yeah,” Maverick responded. “’Course.”

It looked like Ice was about to head off, but another surge of courage came over Maverick before he let that happen.

“You want to grab breakfast at the dining hall?” Maverick asked. “I haven’t eaten yet, and it looks like all you had was a coffee.”

Ice turned, eyes unreadable, but he nodded silently.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And that was enough to keep the smile on Maverick’s face the entire day.

***

By the time their second game of the season came around, Maverick had spent a considerable amount of time with Ice outside of practice, though it was usually in the company of others. Nevertheless, Maverick couldn’t get enough of it. He learned that Ice studied in the library after dinner on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays until 10pm – unless, of course, his studying was interrupted by a teammate getting beaten up in an alleyway. Though Ice was raised in San Francisco, he was actually born in Boston, which Slider joked was the reason he never felt the cold in the winter too much—_you got used to those damn New England snowstorms, huh?_ Ice liked milk with breakfast and orange juice with dinner, he liked his steak as rare as you cook it without it being raw, and the only sweet thing he went for in the dining hall was a spoonful of brown sugar in his oatmeal on Sundays. He also woke up at 5am without fail and went on a run every morning. Which explained where he was when Maverick had woken up on his couch.

And the day of their game against Trelawney, Maverick learned one more thing about Ice: he read on the porch of his dorm’s building every Thursday morning. Maverick didn’t notice him at first, walking past and pressing the buzzer for Room 4B. 

“Yo.”

Maverick spun around before noticing Ice sat beside the green picnic table on the section of the porch that jutted out from the stoop. He was lowering a paperback book.

“Looking for Slider?” he asked.

“I accidentally took his cleats after practice tonight, and I think he has mine,” Maverick said. “I didn’t even notice it until this morning when I put them on and slid right out of them.”

“Yeah, Slider’s got big feet,” Ice chuckled, popping what looked like cashews into his mouth.

Maverick chuckled. “Yeah, well, you know what they—”

“Yeah, I know what they say about big feet, Maverick” Ice said, chuckling while bringing his book back up to eye-level. “Though doesn’t bode well for you if your feet are so much smaller.”

Maverick looked back at him indignantly. When Ice raised his gaze again, he burst into laughter.

"I'll have you know—" Maverick started. 

“Calm down,” Ice said. A smile spread across his face, but his eyes were still moving across the pages of his book. “I'm not questioning_.”_

Maverick had the decency to blush.

***

Trelawney was no average football team. They consistently ranked among the top 5 in the country, and despite suffering an upset in the quarter finals that ruined their chance at the championship the previous year, they were not the team to underestimate. Their captain—_Eagle—_had gone to high school with Viper and come up in the ranks with him. The two teams had a history of healthy, respectful rivalry. Though it was only the second game of the season, that was often the most crucial time to pick up points - while the team was still fresh and relatively unscathed with injuries.

Alas, the day before, Cougar had picked up a bad knock in practice and the team doctors recommended that he sit out against Trelawney to ensure a smooth recovery. Though Cougar was vital to their team, Viper was unfazed, and both he and Ice came up with a Plan B.

_“Given Cougar’s injury, we’re going to slip Hollywood back into midfield for support. 4-4-2, with Ice and Maverick up front. No muss, no fuss.” _

Though the lineup was a quick fix, the game was brutal. Maverick, who usually danced around defenders and got shots away with relative ease, found himself double-marked the entire time. Ice had warned him this could happen after his impressive first game—_“Once they know how good you are, they’ll start surrounding your every move.”_

For once, Miramar seemed to be on the back foot. The defense was struggling to connect with Viper in midfield, and a few careless passes gave Trelawney one too many opportunities on goal. As the half-hour mark came and went, Maverick could see Viper getting frustrated. And then in the 38th minute, things got worse when Merlin came up to defend a corner with his arm raised.

It was a penalty, clear as day. Though Slider flexed a little and mouthed the ref off—_“I like to make sure they know we’re not pushovers, no matter what the call is, you know?”—_the ref pointed ominously at the penalty spot.

Miramar players gathered around the penalty box, sending all their mental strength to Goose as he lined up to face the Trelawney striker. Though Goose was 6’4 and had a knack for saving close-range shots, any penalty shot favored the striker by a staggering 90%.

The whistle blew, the striker jogged up for the shot… And Maverick’s face broke into an ear-splitting grin.

_Yes! _

Goose’s reaction was worth almost more than the save itself. He leapt up and pumped his fist in the air wildly, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Maverick hollered in his best friend's ear. Seeing Goose so happy would always be one of Maverick's favorite things in the world. 

The deadlock at 0-0 still stood, and the game was still tense as ever. Miramar still hadn’t had a shot on goal. The team had their asses handed to them during halftime, with Viper insisting that they could do better, especially as they’d been messing up simple one-two passes and missing key through pass opportunities.

In the 68th minute, Maverick struck the post, and a minute after that, Ice whipped the ball into the goal. Though the team was celebrating, Ice looked at the referee in confusion when he reached into his pocket for a yellow card.

The goal was disallowed for an apparent foul by Wolf on Eagle. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Maverick yelled. When the ref looked at him sternly, he shrugged. “That wasn’t even a foul! The fucker _dove._”

Slider eventually had to pull Maverick away, but not before he yelled a few more choice words at the ref. He saw Wolf apologizing to Ice, who was shaking his head in reassurance. Though Maverick was livid, and still hadn’t quite mastered the art of _shutting up, _he had noticed that playing with the Miramar boys had noticeably improved his temperament on the pitch. Something about playing with people he actually liked, actually respected, made a huge difference. Plus, there was something about Ice’s mere presence on the pitch that calmed his fire.

When the whistle blew again, though, Maverick noticed that Ice was limping. When play stopped for a Trelawney substitution, the blond winced and palm his knee gently. Maverick jogged up to him.

“You okay?” Maverick said between pants. “Ask for a sub.”

Ice shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Ice—”

Maverick saw Ice glance wearily at the stands.

“I know he’s there,” Maverick whispered urgently. “But you’re in pain. You should ask for a sub.”

“I’m _fine, _Mav,” Ice insisted, and for the first time ever, Maverick saw a sense of desperation in Ice’s gaze.

Maverick nodded and backed away.

Going into stoppage time, Maverick grew impatient. Though Trelawney was a great team, he didn’t want to settle for a draw, especially on home turf. No fucking thank you.

Ice’s limp had subsided a little bit, and he was still fighting for every ball, every pass. Maverick, not one to be shown up, fought equally hard. And as if the fates had heard his stubborn prayers, one of the Trelawney defenders lost his cool for second and mistimed a crucial tackle _just _inside the penalty area. Hollywood rolled over easily on the ground; the tackle hadn’t been a dangerous one, thank god.

Though a team could choose any player to take a penalty shot once awarded one, Ice was Miramar’s resident penalty-taker, especially during key games.

However, when Hollywood threw the ball to Ice for the shot, Ice threw it back at him.

“It’s yours,” Ice said.

“What?” Hollywood—and Slider, who was standing behind him—said at the same time.

“Get your first goal of the season,” Ice responded. “You know it gets easier from there.”

Hollywood’s eyes widened. “You sure?”

Ice nodded and backed away to let Hollywood past him.

“Why’d you do that?” Maverick asked as they settled around the penalty area for the second time that day.

“He needs the confidence boost,” Ice said, shrugging. “If Wolf’s not going to give it to him, I might as well.”

Maverick and Ice shared an amused glance at that. Ice continued to surprise him.

The clock entered the last minute of stoppage time. Maverick bit his lip, hoping suddenly that Ice hadn’t made the wrong decision.

He shouldn’t have worried. Hollywood made no mistake, slamming the ball down the middle with practiced ease.

The whistle blew immediately after, and the Miramar team exploded in cheers. It had been one hell of a tiring game, but Maverick always found renewed energy in himself when it came to celebrating a win.

He hugged Ice tightly, and as felt the blond grin against his neck, he closed his eyes and imagined what this would feel like off the pitch, just the two of them. Viper clapped him on the back, and after consoling some of the Trelawney players, they made for the locker rooms.

“Oh _maaaan,_” Goose was saying, almost in hysterics. “What a fucking game, what a fucking game! I was so fucking nervous at the end there!”

“Mother Goose saving our asses!” one of the freshman laughed, bringing Goose in for a hug.

“And _Holly_wood!” Chipper was shouting across the room. “Coming in clutch, man!”

Hollywood was surrounded by his teammates who were clapping him on the back, engulfing him in hugs, and ruffling his hair five ways to Sunday, the biggest smile plastered on his face. As the team settled into celebration mode once again, and party music from Goose’s playlist was booming loudly—"_Is this Tiesto?” _someone asked_—_Maverick saw Wolf make his way around his teammates towards Hollywood.

When he reached his best friend, who was still surrounded by other players, the older boy looked up at the winger questioningly.

“What—”

His next words were cut off when Wolf surged forward, took Hollywood’s face in his hands, and caught his lips in a kiss. Hollywood’s eyebrows shot up, but after a few seconds he melted into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup Wolf’s cheek.

“Fuck,” ‘Wood whispered as they broke away for a breath. “_What?”_

“Oh come on, you doofus,” Wolf said, though Maverick could hear the hint of a question in his voice, as if after all this time he still doubted that Hollywood wanted him. 

Hollywood let out a shocked but intensely relieved laugh and pulled Wolf in for another kiss. Wolf obliged happily, wrapping his arms around the striker. Their bodies fit together like the last two pieces of a puzzle. Like they were made for it.

If the locker room had been loud before, it was _booming _now. Goose practically screamed with joy seeing his two friends _finally _get it together, Chipper and Sundown were exchanging high-fives, and Maverick grinned, resting his head back against his locker in satisfaction.

Even Viper, who stood at a distance as he always did, had a small smile on his face.

Maverick turned around when he felt Ice tap him on the shoulder.

“How much money would I win if I’d bet that you interfered to make this happen?” he asked.

Maverick looked at him with a mock-insulted expression. “I would _never._”

“I know you, Maverick Mitchell,” Ice said slyly. “Although this _does _mean I owe Slider a twenty. Damn.”

“Huh,” Maverick said. “Well I wouldn’t have nudged them that much if I’d known you’d be out of a _twenty, _Ice. Whatever will you do now?”

Ice shook his head, grinned, and settled down next to Maverick, their knees touching as they continued to watch Hollywood and Wolf act like love-drunk idiots.

“Your knee okay?” Maverick asked.

Ice nodded silently. Maverick reached over and snagged one of the team doctors’ bags, opening it despite Ice’s protests. Silently, he took out a compress and placed it directly on Ice’s knee, keeping his hand there as well.

“I can do that myself,” Ice whispered.

“Don’t be stupid,” Maverick responded, echoing the note Ice had left for him the morning after the alley incident.

Ice looked like he was about to say something, but the silence stretched.

They both missed Slider’s knowing glance as he watched the two of them from the other side of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeek I’m sorry for the slow burn >.< Even I’m getting impatient with these two now. I promise in the next chapter the burn will quicken quite a bit. I also wanted to resolve Wolf and ‘Wood first because they really needed to get their heads out of their asses... Plus I needed to get them out of my system so I could give Ice and Mav my undivided attention lol. 
> 
> The next chapter will also be a little less football-heavy, as I realize there have been quite a few game scenes recently. Again, this was kinda supposed to be a filler chapter but once I started writing, these scenes sorta wrote themselves...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel every time I post a chapter, I talk about how it got way ahead of me, and today is no exception. This stuff is just flying out of me at this point, idk it's probably just a manifestation of my quarantine restlessness. 
> 
> I got a dm on tumblr from someone who mentioned that there were a few lapses in continuity throughout this fic, and that is a point very well taken! I usually post my chapters pretty soon after writing them (mostly because I’m a lazy bum, to be honest lol), and I’m not great at actually “fact-checking” myself (against myself, lol) to make sure that the storylines and accompanying facts that I’m putting out there in my alternate universe are consistent. This is something I want to be much more conscious of, because it’s definitely something that can take you out of a story! So if you find instances of continuity breaks/factual inconsistencies, please point them out and I’ll fix them.
> 
> Additionally, I watched Top Gun again over the weekend so this chapter has SHAMELESS nods to some key lines in the film. I just couldn’t help myself lol.

_~ MIRAMAR FOOTBALL ~_

_HowdyWolf added Hollywood_Neven, IceKazansky, Maverick10, RKerner, MotherGoose, and 15 others to the chat. _

**Maverick10: **What is this?

**Hollywood_Neven: **Wait for it…

**HowdyWolf: **Hey Y’ALL! This is our GrOuP CHAT! I made it so we could all chat

**CougarBill: **Yes, Wolf, chatting is what one tends to do in a group chat

**HowdyWolf: **AND coordinate fun plans and beer pong and FIFA games

**HowdyWolf: **You know! All the important thingzz

**MiramarTex: **Oh here we go

**RKerner: **Jesus Christ

**RKerner: **Wolf, you text like a fucking 13 year old

**MotherGoose: **YES WOOOLF! I LOVE IT!

**HowdyWolf**: I KNEW YOU’D HAVE MY BACK MOTHER GOOSE!

**RKerner: **This gives me a headache

**ChipChipper: **Is Viper on this…?

**HowdyWolf**: NOPE no superiors! No Viper or Jester. This chat is for pure FUN okay

**RKerner: **I see Ice on here and he’s our vice-captain, so technically your superior

**HowdyWolf: **Ok but Iceman doesn’t count! He gets to join the fun!

**RKerner: **That’s Mr. Iceman to you

**MotherGoose:** LOL

**Maverick10:** “Mr. Iceman” yeah right

**HowdyWolf: **FiNEEE, Mr. Iceman

**HowdyWolf: **HI ICE!

**CougarBill: **Looool

**HowdyWolf: **Ice! Where you at?

**CougarBill: **Have you considered that Ice does not have time for your ridiculous shenanigans?

**HowdyWolf: **Come on, Ice! Engage!

**ChipChipper: **While we wait for what I’m sure will be a very excited response from Ice, I have to ask… why exactly did you set up this group chat when we all have each other’s phone numbers to coordinate hangouts anyway?

**Maverick10: **I second this question

**IceKazansky: **I third it

**HowdyWolf: **HEY ICE!

**IceKazansky: **Hello, Wolf

**Hollywood_Neven: **I’d like it on record that I just stopped Wolf from responding with “you mean _HOWDY_, Wolf?”

**MotherGoose: ***facepalm*

**Maverick10: ***facepalm*

**MerlinsBeard: ***facepalm*

**Sundown007: **@Hollywood_Neven Why didn’t you stop him from creating this group chat

**IceKazansky:** I also asked myself this question

**Hollywood_Neven: **Believe me, I tried

**HowdyWolf: **Don’t hate on the chat! Come on y’all!

**MerlinsBeard:** Yes this chat has really heralded some riveting discussion so far

**MotherGoose: **Haters gonna hate hate hate

**MerlinsBeard:** Goose are you seriously quoting Taylor Swift at us right now

**Hollywood_Neven: **Jesus Christ. I have psych, so I’m going to turn this train wreck of a conversation on silent. Everyone else proceed with caution.

**RKerner: **I second the train wreck sentiment.

**HowdyWolf: **Y’all SUCK

**IceKazansky: **On a separate note, Mav you still coming round to the gym later? Slider, Merlin and I are going to be there around 3

**Maverick10: **Yeah! Still planning on it. Goose you in?

**MotherGoose: **I just slid out of bed, so I’ll pass.

**HowdyWolf: **See! This group chat is so multi-functional! Make plans! Be merry!

**RKerner: **For fuck’s sake

**HowdyWolf: **Aaaanyway, y’all coming round for some drinks tonight? I know we all have an early bus ride to LA, but we could kick it lowkey

**Sundown007: **Bro, NO. I still need to pack, you can’t be tryina start a party in our room tonight.

**IceKazansky: **I shouldn’t need to warn you that Viper and Jester will eat you all alive if any of you show up even the slightest bit hungover on the morning of our first away game of the season

**HowdyWolf: **OK FINE scrap the drinks! Just FIFA?

**MotherGoose: **Hell yeah, I’m in! I can bring Catan too!

**Maverick10: **HAH, surprised you even want to play after Ice and I schooled you last time

**IceKazansky: **;)

**MotherGoose: **FIRST of all, I was drunk. SECOND of all, so was Merlin. And THIRD of

**CougarBill: **Waiting in suspense here

**MotherGoose: **Sorry lol dropped my phone. THIRD of all, Ice and Maverick as a team is just unfair

**HowdyWolf: **Well tonight is the perfect time to settle the score! Everyone in?

**HowdyWolf: **I’m taking silences as affirmatives

**CougarBill: **FINE

**RKerner: **I’ll be there but I call the lazy boy

**Maverick10: **Goose and I will be there

**IceKazansky: **As vice-captain, the politically-correct answer here would be no

**IceKazansky: **But if you guys are going to be stupid, I might as well be there to make sure nothing goes wrong

**HowdyWolf: **Atta BOY, Ice!

**Sundown007: **… Ok well y’all better be fucking quiet because I really do need to PACK

**HowdyWolf: **I thought you were going to pack this morning?

**Sundown007: **I was planning on it but I overslept :) Would you like to know WHY?

**HowdyWolf: **??? Yes??

**Sundown: **Well, a certain _someone, _or _two someones_, kept me up all night because they can’t keep their fucking hands out of each-other’s pants. The walls are THIN bitch.

**IceKazansky: **Look who’s gone conveniently quiet

**HowdyWolf: **Ah well it looks like I have class now boys haha See y’all tonight !!

**CougarBill: **LOL SUNDOWN nice one

**MerlinsBeard: **I’m cry-laughing what a fucking bulls-eye shot

**Hollywood_Neven: **Class just ended, this convo still a train wreck?

**Maverick10: **GREAT timing Hollywood. Read the last few messages and shed some light for us will ya?

_Hollywood_Neven has left ~ MIRAMAR FOOTBALL ~ _

_RKerner added Hollywood_Neven to the chat._

**Hollywood_Neven: **What have I ever done to you Kerner

**RKerner: **I take everything back, this group chat is golden

**Maverick10: **I fucking love this

**IceKazansky: **Seconded

***

Maverick put his phone away with a smile on his face. He was just returning from a business lecture and had a few more hours to kill before he had to meet Ice, Slider, and Chipper at the gym. When he entered his and Goose’s room, he heard the shower going and chuckled to himself. Goose really only woke up early when he had to for practice, and on Wednesdays, he had neither practice nor class, which explained why he’d just rolled out of bed at a graceful 12pm.

About 10 minutes later, Maverick was sat at his desk, sorting through his mail and unceremoniously throwing junk into the nearby trashcan. Goose usually sorted through their mail every few weeks, but after accidentally throwing away a letter from his mother and getting quite the earful from his family, they committed to checking their mail more frequently, and more carefully. It was Maverick’s job this week, and he found himself amused at the various promotional materials in the stack. Some flyers to join the Miramar basketball team—_as if the university didn’t already know they were on the football team—_some random invitations to join various campus clubs, and a handful of flyers about the new PS5.

As he reached the end of the stack, his hands froze when he saw the sender information printed on the front of one of the letters.

_Duke G. Mitchell_

_1932 Granite Rd, Baltimore, MD 21201_

_West Baltimore Correctional Facility*_

His entire body felt like it was drowning. Like he was out at sea and the rescue helicopter wasn’t coming. His breaths started to quicken. His blood felt like lava. He shouted for Goose.

Recognizing the panic in Maverick’s voice, Goose came stumbling out of the shower and into the room.

“What’s wrong?!”

Maverick tilted the letter so Goose could see.

“Fuck,” Goose whispered, sitting down next to his best friend. Maverick didn’t mind that Goose was still dripping wet.

“Are you going to open it?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t know,” Maverick said, shutting his eyes tight. Goose wrapped his arms around him, holding him steady. “I can’t. Not now. We have an away game tomorrow, our _first _away game, and I can’t… I can’t read it now.”

“Okay,” Goose nodded. “Then you don’t read it now. You don’t have to read it at all if you don’t want to.”

Maverick bit his lip until he tasted blood.

“What could he possibly have to say to me?” Maverick asked, a wave of rage hitting him suddenly. “And why now? After a whole fucking year and a half?”

“I don’t know, man,” Goose sighed. “I don’t know.”

“I know this is hard for you,” Goose continued, slowly, carefully. “You don’t deserve any of this, man. You don’t deserve to have this hang over you. I wish I could make it better.”

“You already do, Goose,” Maverick said. “You’re the only family I have left.”

Maverick closed his eyes again, feeling the weight of his own history pressing down on him. He didn’t want any of this. He wished he could just make it go away, like a nightmare. But it was all too real, and he couldn’t wake up. No matter where he went, he was still Duke Mitchell’s son. The son of a murderer. And on top of all of that, it wasn’t clear-cut. Maverick couldn’t let himself confront his own anger because deep down he still loved his father. The man who raised him, who read to him every night when he was younger, who taught him how to play football, how to _love _football, how to _love _himself despite all the shit the world could throw at a guy.

And what did that say about him – that he could still love a murderer?

_Fuck. _

Maverick slipped the letter, unopened, into his backpack. He couldn’t read it now.

“Thanks, Goose,” Maverick sighed. “For all of this.”

“For what, man?” Goose asked. “Of course I’ll always be here for you. No question about it. It’s nothing to me.”

Maverick sighed, leaning back in his chair. Goose got dressed in his usual sweatpants and patterned t-shirt. As his best friend rummaged through his dresser, Maverick noticed that he kept glancing at him, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“What’s up?” Maverick laughed.

“I just…” he started in that endearingly awkward _Goose _kind of way. “This is completely unrelated to your dad, I think… but I noticed that you’ve been kind of different lately. Not in a bad way! In a good way, actually. And not just on the pitch, I just… I don’t know man. There’s something… you know…”

Maverick smiled suddenly, amused at Goose’s antics. There was definitely something Goose wanted to say but was instead trying to prompt Maverick into talking about. And Maverick knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what it was about.

“Are you talking about how I have it kind of bad for Ice?” Maverick asked, thinking _what the hell. _He trusted Goose with his life, and he knew his best friend would never divulge a secret.

He expected Goose’s eyes to bulge in surprise. Not that the goalie wasn’t smart. He just wasn’t the most observant type. Rather like Maverick. However, Goose’s expression didn’t change. He looked at Maverick and nodded silently, his eyes clear as day.

“You knew?”

Goose shrugged and chuckled awkwardly.

“I mean, I know what you look like when you like someone,” Goose chuckled. “Remember David?”

Maverick scoffed. “Oh you _have _to bring that up?”

Goose barked out a laugh. Maverick had a long history of falling for straight guys through high school, and Goose and Carole regularly had to comfort his bruised ego.

“Look, I was kind of surprised at first, since he’s your rival and all. I didn’t really believe it when I saw the way you looked at him,” Goose said. “But then you guys got close, and… I don’t know… I see the way you act around each other.”

“Well, this might well be another David situation, to be honest,” Maverick groaned, sighing sadly.

“Nah, man… I mean I can’t guarantee it, but I said that I see the way you _both _act around each other,” Goose insisted. “Okay, Ice might not be Mr. _ice-cold-no-mistakes _all the time, but he is a cold guy in general. I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you. It’s like he’s relaxed, you know? Can’t count for nothing.”

“I don’t even know if he’s gay,” Maverick said, closing his eyes again.

“Well you don’t know that he isn’t,” Goose said, pursing his lips in thought. “I think he dated someone for like—a month?—last year, but Slider set them up. We never even met her, so it wasn’t super serious. And I’ve never really seen him with anyone else.”

Maverick leaned his head back against the wall, and Goose patted his thigh.

“Whatever happens, man,” he said. “I’m here for you.”

***

If the chat room had been a train wreck, the bus ride to Los Angeles was that multiplied by fifty.

“Oh for _fuck’s _sake, Stallion, why is your bag so heavy?!”

“Yo yo yo, Slider, sit back here.”

“Stop kicking my god damn chair, will you?!”

“Goose turn down your music for a second, I want to play this song!”

Maverick looked around the team bus in amusement. It was his first away game of the season, and to say he was excited would be an understatement. He used to love travelling for games in high school, up until his father’s trial. After that, travelling with his teammates was a nightmare. Most of them turned on him quickly and viciously as his father’s reputation was smeared across media outlets and social media spheres. Though Goose and Carole tried their best to protect him from his particularly nasty teammates, traveling with them always resulted in Maverick picking a fight or becoming the butt of some Duke Mitchell-related joke.

Now, things couldn’t be more different, and Miramar was headed to downtown Los Angeles to play against Tyll College**. It was only a roughly 2-hour bus ride, but the university had them well equipped in a comfortably spacious bus—_can’t even get this kind of leg space flying first class, _Slider commented.

Goose, who’d been sitting next to him for the first 15 minutes of the ride, was now ambling toward the back of the bus with a notebook in his hands. He practically launched himself into the row in front of Slider and Chipper, who were working furiously on their stats homework. Apparently none of them had started their assignment, and it was due at midnight.

“What the hell does Question 6 mean?” Goose groaned loudly.

“Well it would help if you answered Question 5 first, man, since it feeds into Question 6,” Slider barked, glancing over at Goose’s problem set.

“You’re a lot brighter than you look, you know?” Goose teased him.

“Oh you shut up.”

Maverick glanced back at them in amusement, and didn’t notice when Ice appeared beside him with his gym bag slung around his shoulder.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

Maverick nodded instantly. Ice had been sitting with Slider at the front of the bus until his friend had left him to seek Chipper out for homework assistance. Chipper was somewhat of a savant with numbers, it turned out.

A few rows behind them, Goose and Slider were still bickering over Question 6, their voices getting progressively louder.

“Will you fuckers keep it _down?_” Hollywood hissed from further down the bus. Wolf was fast asleep with his head resting on his boyfriend’s chest. Hollywood had draped his varsity jacket over Wolf’s top half and was holding him close.

“Sorry,” Slider and Goose said, instantly dialing down the volume.

“Wolf has insomnia,” Ice said, popping some gum in his mouth. He offered his pack to Maverick, who declined. “Doesn’t sleep easy.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Maverick said, glancing back at the pair. Hollywood sighed, buried a kiss into Wolf’s hair, and adjusted the angle of his seat.

“So tell me about Tyll,” Maverick continued while Ice settled himself into the aisle seat. The blond smelled like spearmint, like a forest, but with an undertone of sweetness that Maverick found himself drunk on within a matter of seconds.

Ice shrugged, getting his hoodie out from his bag and pulling it over his head. Maverick wished he’d brought his bomber jacket onboard. He didn’t know they’d be blasting the air conditioning on high, so he’d left most of his clothes in his overnight pack, which was in the bus’s storage compartment inaccessible from the passenger seating area.

“They shouldn’t really be a threat, but you never know. Known for their attack more than their defense, but their best strikers just graduated last year, so I don’t expect too much trouble. It’s not an easy pitch to play in, though. The way it’s designed, it gets really, _really, _hot. So expect an exhausting game.”

Maverick nodded, but before he could respond, a jolt of cold ran through him and he shivered visibly.

Wordlessly, Ice leaned forward and rummaged through his gym bag, coming up with a blue Patagonia blanket, fleece on one side and some kind of waterproof material on the other. He spread the blanket across both of their laps like it was a completely normal thing to do.

Before Maverick could say anything, Ice was talking again, nonchalantly mentioning something about Tyll’s training program.

Maverick enjoyed listening to Ice talk about the game. He was sharp, astute, exacting… and before long they were exchanging tactics and ideas. It surprised Maverick how much Ice picked up on in games. And it turned out that much of what Maverick had observed, Ice had too. Like the fact that they linked up particularly well on long plays, and on short plays they were much more effective coming up the right wing when Wolf or Chipper were there to support. Or like the fact that they should probably play Slider higher and have Cougar slip into a defensive midfield position to guard the goal line when Slider was on the offense.

As Maverick moved to grab his notebook so he could show Ice some plays he’d been conceptualizing, a bump in the road caused a few things to spill out of his backpack. Maverick froze when he saw the letter from his dad fall onto the floor. His breath caught when he looked back at Ice and saw that the striker was staring directly at it. Though his eyes were somewhat neutral, Maverick picked up on the sudden intake of breath, however slight.

“Ice…” Maverick started hastily as he shoved the letter, almost angrily, into his bag again.

“I didn’t see anything,” Ice said dismissively.

“I know you saw it,” Maverick said nervously. A short pause followed, and then, “I’m not, like, communicating with him or anything.”

Ice was silent.

“Please don’t tell the others,” Maverick continued, growing even more panicked by the second. Would Ice think he was in some kind of cahoots with his father? That he was exchanging letters with him on a weekly basis?

“Mav-_erick_,” Ice said softly, and like always, that voice was a balm to Maverick’s nerves. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I… you know…” Maverick said, cursing himself inwardly. “I’m not… I’m not like him.”

As if sensing the heightening worry that was bubbling up inside him, Ice placed a warm hand on Maverick’s thigh underneath the blanket. 

“I know who you are,” Ice said. After a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation, he added, “I’m sorry if that was unclear.”

Maverick saw the genuine apology in Ice’s eyes, like maybe Ice really did understand him. A sudden surge of bravery, of _need, _gripped Maverick and he sought Ice’s hand, which was still on his knee, under the blanket. To his surprise, Ice inverted his palm and intertwined their fingers.

They didn’t address it—the fact that they were holding hands—which should have been weird. But conversation came easy after that, like the most natural thing in the world. Ice hand was cold at first, but his palm grew warmer the longer it rested against Maverick’s own. It was like there was some unspoken understanding between them that this was _right. _

It was only about an hour later, when Goose stumbled back to Maverick’s row, groaning about Question 11 (it shocked Maverick that he’d been able to get that far), that Ice disentangled his hand from Maverick’s and let Goose back into his original seat. Ice shot him a somewhat reserved smile before making his way down the aisle. When Maverick turned out a few minutes later, he saw him sat next to Cougar, laughing at something on the midfielder’s phone.

Within minutes, Goose was snoring loudly, and Maverick popped his earphones in to drown out the noise. He didn’t know what was happening between him and Ice—if it was just innocent, whether Ice was _trying _to flirt, why Ice would have held his hand if they were really just teammates, just friends. He wanted to wake Goose to ask, but he was sure that Goose wouldn’t be able to keep his voice down upon hearing the recent developments and he didn’t fancy outing himself—and his crush on Ice—to the entire team, including the blond himself.

***

“All right, folks,” Viper gathered the team together in the lobby of the hotel where they’d be staying for two nights. “I know you’re all tired, so you can take a break, get some fresh air. But I expect you all at the training grounds in 2 hours. The first order of business before that, though, is your rooming assignments. I know you’re all used to your regular assignments, but I’ve had to switch things up a bit to accommodate the new additions to the team, and some other factors. What I _don’t _want is anyone complaining. Jester, if you please.”

“Three bunks in every room, so six a piece,” Jester said, looking down at his clipboard. “Maverick, Goose… Ice, Slider… Hollywood, Cougar in Room 1…”

“Wait, I usually room with ‘Wood,” Wolf started, despite the stern glance sent his way by Viper.

“I’m well aware, Wolf,” Viper said immediately. “I also know you both would want to focus before your game tomorrow. Or am I wrong?”

“But we would focus!”

“_Bull_shit!” Ice coughed into his hand. Though Ice was a hard ass when he needed to be, Maverick saw more and more that the blond had a naturally playful side that he often slipped into. Slider snickered loudly, earning himself a swat on the head from Hollywood.

“It’s final, Wolf.”

“But—”

“I said it’s _final,_” Viper said sternly. “Get on it, or you’re doing extra laps tomorrow.”

Wolf stifled a groan into Hollywood’s shoulder. Sundown and Cougar were both staring at the ground, stifling their own laughter. 

Maverick’s mind, meanwhile, was elsewhere. He was thinking about the fact that he’d be sleeping in the same room as Ice. Fuck. How was he supposed to hide the fact that he was practically in love with the blond for much longer? He was fucking done for.

“You want top or bottom bunk?” Goose nudged him over Ice’s shoulder.

“Uh—Bottom,” Maverick said. “You know, the—nightmares, and all,” he tried to add casually. Yeah, he’d really prefer not to fall off a top bunk after a night terror. It would be embarrassing enough to wake up screaming. God, he hoped the fates would be kind to him that night.

Goose nodded immediately.

“All right, boys,” Jester was saying. “No arguing about who gets top or bottom bunk. Let’s be adults about it all, all right? First come first choose. And no runnin—for fuck’s sake.”

A group of them—mostly first-years—rushed past Jester and Viper towards the elevators, chatting loudly. Ice and Slider rolled their eyes simultaneously, stepping aside—that was, until one of the reserve goalies ran straight into Slider, earning himself a stern _“Watch it!”_

Maverick was about to follow them when he felt his cell phone ringing. It was Carole. When he showed Goose the screen, Goose immediately took his phone out of his pocket. And cursed. He’d had 3 missed calls from her that he hadn’t seen. Maverick answered to Carole’s usually greeting of “_Honey!_” and the pair put her on speakerphone while the rest of the team filtered out of the lobby. Carole gave them some quick updates on the air conditioner in their room, which had been malfunctioning over the past week. Carole graciously agreed to oversee the repairs with the university facilities department while they were away, and she happily told them that the unit would be fixed by the time they got back. Goose blew her several kisses as she signed off.

“Damn, Mav,” Goose said as they rushed up to their room. “Don’t know if you’ll get that bottom bunk after all. I know Ice, Slider, and Cougar all like to sleep on the bottom, so…”

“It’s fine,” Maverick said instantly.

When they got to their room, however, Maverick saw Ice’s blanket draped over the bottom bunk closest to the door. Ice himself was unpacking on the top bunk closest to the window.

“You bunking up top, Kazansky?” Goose asked, surprised.

“Up for a change,” he shrugged, hanging his cleats carefully on the corner of the bed. “That bottom bunk’s yours, Mav.”

As Goose went to the bathroom, Maverick turned to Ice, who was still unpacking methodically. It seemed like everyone else had dumped their bags on their respective beds and left for lunch.

“You sure you don’t want the bottom bunk?” Maverick said curiously.

“I don’t really care,” Ice said immediately, zipping up his gym bunk and hopping off the top bunk.

Maverick wanted to question Ice further, say something like, _Why are you being so nice to me? Why did you hold my hand? What the fuck is going on? _But Ice’s casual indifference to everything he was doing to Maverick made him feel kind of helpless. There he was, his mind going into a flat spin, while the blond was cool as ever, as if none of this had any effect on him.

Ice took his shirt off and threw it to his hamper next to Slider’s. As the blond was fishing through his small grey suitcase, Maverick gulped. It wasn’t like he’d never seen Ice shirtless. But after the bus ride, his brain was fifty shades of mush when it came to Ice. Maverick was almost grateful when the striker pulled on a grey Henley, but his mind short-circuited again when he recognized it as the same one Ice had been wearing the night he saved him from the alley.

Yeah, he was well and truly fucked.

***

**HowdyWolf: **Y’ALL Chipper and I are at the park across the street! Gr8 viewz! 

**Maverick10: **Ice and I are waiting on Goose then we’ll come down

**CougarBill: **Slider, Wood and I are at sweetgreen then we’ll be over! Anyone want anything?

**Maverick10: **Can y’all grab Ice and I two of anything?

**CougarBill: **I’ll get Ice his usual and I’ll just double that for you Mav

**HowdyWolf: **Chipper’s all set but get me a buffalo chicken bowl with extra breadcrumbs !!!

**CougarBill: **Hollywood already did

**HowdyWolf: **<333

**CougarBill: **I assume those hearts were meant for me. I’m FLATTERED Wolf

**HowdyWolf:** <333333333

**HowdyWolf: **Seriously though y’all come down here!

**RKerner: **Jesus Christ I got like 20 notifications in a row, my phone was buzzing like I had a vibrator in my fucking pocket

**Sundown007: **Wouldn’t be the first time you had a vibrator in your pocket though would it?

**RKerner: **Oh you shut it now

**IceKazansky: **Remember: practice grounds at 1pm, no fucking around

**HowdyWolf: **Yessir

**MotherGoose: **Can someone at sweetgreen get me one of those warm bowls with chicken. You know the sweet-ish one? With onions?

**RKerner: **I’m getting you one of the chicken bowls but you don’t get to complain if it’s the wrong one

**Maverick10: **Are you seriously texting about chicken bowls while sitting on the toilet you fucker

**MotherGoose: **Wanted to make sure I asked them before they left!!

**Maverick10: **Lol Goose, it’s been 15 minutes. Ice and I are leaving without you, but I wish you luck in there. Hope it wasn’t the omelet from this morning :)

**MerlinsBeard: **LOOOOOOL

**RKerner: **HAHAHAH

**MotherGoose: **Looool Mav I thought we were FRIENDS

***

After an eventful day of frisbeeing in the park and taking a spin around downtown Los Angeles in an obnoxious red car that Slider rented for the day, Maverick and his temporary roommates settled in for the night at a respectful 9pm. Though Goose and Slider were about to set up another game of Catan after arguing their way through the end of the last one, Ice had insisted that they shouldn't take another few years off of Viper’s life, and turned out the light for good measure.

Sometime in the night, Maverick jolted awake—not from a nightmare, thank God—and rolled over to grab his water bottle. He took a long sip and then stretched across the length of the bed. As he was about to drift off back to sleep, he heard the bedroom door creak open and saw a sliver of light stream in from the hallway.

“Hollywood?” came a small, barely audible, whisper.

Maverick heard Hollywood rustle on the bunk above him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t sleep,” Wolf whispered, his southern twang intensified in the way it usually was when he was really worried.

“C’mere,” Wood said immediately. Wolf clicked the door shut gently and made his way up onto the top bunk.

Maverick smiled to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement on Ice’s top bunk, which was opposite Hollywood’s. But if Ice had heard anything, he didn’t speak up. 

He must have day-dreamed about Ice for a while, because the next voice he heard was Wolf’s, and he definitely did _not_ sound worried anymore.

“_You’re giving me a hard-on._”

“Don’t tease me,” Hollywood whispered, his voice strained. “They’ll _definitely _hear us. And Viper is going to _kick our asses_.”

“They won’t hear us, come on.”

“Wolf... you need to sleep…”

“Well, you know _this_ helps me sleep,” Wolf said mischievously.

Hollywood really needed to work on his _saying no to Wolf _abilities, because the next thing Maverick heard was more sheets rustling as the couple repositioned themselves on the bed. Maverick silently begged for slumber to take over. He debated saying something—better now than later, right?—but he was interrupted by Hollywood gasping.

“Fuck,” the striker said, throwing his head back on the sheets.

“Just keep quiet, okay?”

“Easy for you to say,” Hollywood hissed. 

“Still want me to stop?”

Hollywood gulped audibly and mumbled something that sounded like a profanity.

Luckily for Maverick, he really _was _exhausted, and sleep overcame him before he could hear anything else. He didn’t have a nightmare that night, but he found himself dreaming of Ice. It wasn’t the first time he had, but it was the first time he dreamt of Ice and him together. Like maybe it could really happen one day.

***

The game against Tyll was as easy as Ice had anticipated. They won by a staggering 5-0 score line, with Ice scoring his first hat-trick of the season, and Maverick and Hollywood scoring one a piece. Cougar had, inexplicably, assisted all five goals, and having sat out the last game against Trelawney due to injury, his comeback was unprecedented and more than welcome.

The only thing that marred their first away win of the season was an unexpected injury to Viper halfway through the second half. He’d landed awkwardly after going up to challenge for the ball, and had to be stretchered off. Though they’d later hear that Viper would only be out for a few games with a thigh injury, it had been a worrying few minutes for Miramar. Ice, who Viper had given the captain’s armband to before he left the pitch, instantly calmed everyone’s nerves. He really was a natural leader. 

After the game ended, the team was high on their biggest win yet of the season, and Slider led the team in Miramar chants as their bus took them back to the hotel. Wolf showed the team a video on his phone that he’d found on ESPN covering Miramar’s amazing start to the season. _And against all odds, Maverick Mitchell, callsign apt considering his notorious reputation, has teamed up perfectly with Ice Kazansky and Hollywood Neven, making up the deadliest front line we’ve seen in years. _Maverick could feel the energy on the bus, and he could see it in the faces of his teammates. It was really going to be their year.

And that was probably when Maverick should’ve stopped. He shouldn’t have ridden the high, shouldn’t have allowed it to make him feel invincible. Shouldn’t have walked over to his backpack… shouldn’t have taken the letter out and ripped the seal open.

Because now he was standing on the hotel’s rooftop courtyard while his team was celebrating downstairs, looking over the city and trying his best not to break down. He really did still love his father after all this time, and the letter cemented that fact. He was nothing but a reckless teenager with no control over his emotions, never mature enough to let go when he should. Never grown up enough to stop himself for feeling things he shouldn’t.

He should have known that Ice would find him there, leaning against the railing and looking at the street down below. The night was cold, and Ice had his hands in a warm Miramar hoodie. It was a sharp contrast to the lightweight t-shirt and shorts that Maverick was wearing. It was so representative of them—Ice always showed up prepared, whether it was for a game or for the weather, and Maverick was the complete opposite.

Ice walked over to him slowly but purposefully. Maverick cursed himself inwardly, feeling the hot tears streaming down his face. But Ice just stood beside him silently, his mere presence slowing Maverick’s heartbeat down. How was it that Ice always showed up just when he was about to lose control—how was it that the sight of the blond alone instantly brought his uncontrollable anger to its knees?

He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he let Ice anchor him. 

“I read the letter,” Maverick said softly after a significant silence had passed.

Ice nodded, as if he already knew. He leaned against the railing next to Maverick, twirling a coin through his fingers. Maverick watched the motion; the rhythm soothed him.

“What can I do?” Ice asked softly, pocketing the coin and taking a step closer to his teammate. His eyes, blue as icicles, were awash with a sureness Maverick had never seen reflected in his own wild gaze.

“I don’t know,” Maverick admitted. “I don’t… I don’t know. I just feel…”

And then Maverick was gasping for breath, feeling like such an idiot. But he had to say it, say the biggest thing that had been on his mind other than his feelings for Ice. He had no control over any of it anymore. Maybe he never had.

“I think my father is innocent,” he finally said, letting loose the weight that had been pressing down on him for the better part of a year now. That admission—that one admission he’d been dreading ever having to make. An admission he’d never made to anyone—not Goose, not Carole, barely even to himself. It was the one thing he thought for certain would alienate everyone around him. No one would understand.

“If anyone knew I thought that, they’d think I was crazy,” Maverick said, his voice getting louder the more out of control he felt. “The media would eat me alive. Probably lock me right in jail with him.”

His mind was in a flat spin, and he felt like a plane dropping in a free fall into the ocean.

And then Ice’s hands were on him, strangely familiar to his body by now.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Maverick,” Ice said. “If you think your dad is innocent, you must have a good reason for it.”

Maverick nodded slowly, but he couldn’t even look at Ice.

“And no one is going to eat you alive,” Ice continued. “You’re one of us now. We’d protect you.”

And so for the first time ever, Maverick uttered thoughts out loud that had, until now, been festering alone in his own mind.

On March 15th, 2019, the night that changed the course of Maverick’s entire life, Duke and Diana Mitchell had been hosting a dinner party with their college friends, Kate and Drew. Maverick hadn’t even been there for it—he’d spent the night with Goose down by the docks, smoking weed and reminiscing about their high school years now that they were only a few months away from graduating.

When Maverick had gotten home, he parked his motorcycle on the curb and noticed that his front door was wide open, blood spattered across the face of the door. The smell of iron was thick in the air. Maverick remembered that nauseating smell all too well—_how could he forget it? _He’d run into the living room in a blind panic. There he saw Kate and Drew collapsed on the table, lifeless, blood soaking their clothes. Drew’s eyes, wide and unseeing but facing directly at Maverick, still gave him nightmares to this day. Drew had taught him how to skateboard, had taught him how to fish. Had been like an uncle to him—his dad’s best friend.

Maverick screamed for his parents, who he eventually found on the second floor landing, just beyond the stairs. His father had crushed him in a rib-breaking hug the minute he saw him, muttering _thank God, thank God, you’re okay. _Maverick screamed, hot tears streaming down his face when he saw his mother’s lifeless body behind his father. His mind went into overdrive. Duke had looked devastated, completely _wrecked, _explaining through his tears that he’d gone out to the store to grab some more ice, and when he’d returned he’d found his best friends and his wife, the love of his life, dead, butchered, _murdered_. He’d tried to perform CPR on Diana in blind desperation, but to no avail.

The problem with Duke Mitchell’s story was that no one had seen him _leave _the house for the store. Neighbors hadn’t heard his car, and the CCTV cameras at the store were broken that night. And, according to Duke, the store he went to had been out of ice, so Duke didn’t even have a receipt to prove a purchase. The only three people that could prove his innocence were dead. Their lawyer was top-class, tried every argument, every angle she could, but the truth of the matter was that no one could place Duke Mitchell, definitively, at the store during the time of the murders. Maverick had been an initial suspect in the case but was thankfully exonerated early– the cameras outside the dock had caught him and Goose hanging out until 11pm. If it weren’t for that tape, Maverick was sure he would have gone down with his father.

There were two weeks right after the murders when Maverick genuinely thought everything would be okay. They hadn’t questioned his father like a suspect at first—they’d treated him like a grieving widow. That was until the fateful night when the police had shown up at their house and ripped Duke out of Maverick’s room to arrest him for the murders. The subsequent trial picked apart every aspect of Duke Mitchell’s past, including his history of alcoholism—though he’d gotten himself clean well before he married Diana. The prosecutors had torn Duke’s reputation into shreds in the span of a few months. And Maverick had watched from the stands, his life exploding like a plane crash in front of his eyes.

But despite the vile things the prosecution team, the public, the media, would say about Duke Mitchell, Maverick had always held on to the one piece of evidence that in his mind, and apparently _only _in his mind, exonerated his father beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Earlier that day, just before Drew and Kate were due to arrive, Maverick and his dad had been cleaning Maverick’s motorcycle. He’d gotten the wheels stuck in the mud a few days prior, and his father, as always, knew just how to clean the wheels to make them look brand new. Maverick had mischievously tried to get his father covered in cleaning liquid just before he had to entertain friends for dinner, and after the water had gone _everywhere, _they’d moved Duke’s BMW into the garage to protect it from their shenanigans.

But when Maverick had come home that night to all of his worst fears coming true, his father’s car was parked at the foot of the driveway at an awkward angle, as if Duke had parked it in a rush. Maverick remembered it clearly because he’d had to maneuver his motorcycle around it awkwardly, which was when he saw the front door covered in blood.

Though the prosecutors had accused Maverick of lying to protect his father, rendering this piece of the story forgotten throughout most of the trial, Maverick knew that even if his father _had_ moved the car after Maverick left to meet Goose and before Kate and Drew had arrived, he would never have parked it so close to the road. It had always been a pet peeve of Duke’s that back when Maverick first learned how to drive, he never bothered bringing the car all the way down the driveway. He always used to nag Maverick about it – it had been a running joke between them.

And, if, _inexplicably_, Duke had really killed his wife and two best friends and _then _moved his car, there would have been blood all over it. Because there had been blood all over _him_ when Maverick found him_. _But his car had been completely spotless when the cops searched it.

For the past few months, Maverick had convinced himself that he was wrong. That maybe he didn’t know his father enough… or maybe he just didn’t remember that Duke had moved his car… or _maybe _Kate and Drew had been late and Duke went somewhere in the car before they’d arrived… But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his father really was guilty of all the vile crimes they convicted him for, this piece of the story never fit in his mind.

As Maverick poured the story out of his being, no holds barred, Ice listened intently. He held Maverick’s hand firmly, letting him get everything off his chest. When Maverick stumbled over a sentence, Ice’s steady gaze urged him on until he’d said everything he wanted—everything he _could_—say.

“And I… your dad said it before and he was right. My reputation precedes me,” Maverick continued. “Maybe I keep hanging on to this one piece of the story because I’m just like my dad. I want to believe he’s innocent because I’m like him, you know? I’m reckless… I’m a rule-breaker… I could be a monster too and just not know it…”

“You’re not,” Ice whispered, interrupting for the first time.

“You don’t know that,” Maverick said wearily. His head hurt now, and he clung onto Ice’s hand like his life depended on it.

“Yes, I do,” Ice repeated. “I know who you are, Maverick. You’re not a monster, you’re not your reputation.”

“You thought I was dangerous when you met me,” Maverick said, his voice much sharper than he intended it to be. He half expected Ice to pull away, but the blond simply shook his head, regret pooling in his blue eyes.

“I’m not perfect,” Ice whispered. “I’m narrow-minded sometimes, I’m defensive, I can jump to conclusions… But I know when I’m wrong. It was wrong of me to judge you, before I knew you.”

He could feel Ice’s breath on his cheek now. Maverick looked up at him, saw the vulnerability in Ice’s eyes that drew him even closer. Ice felt like more than _safety _to him. Ice made him feel hopeful, like he was _home_ even though he knew no home could ever really exist for him.

_Fuck it, _Maverick thought, moving forward to close the distance between them.

Ice’s lips were warm despite the wind ravaging the rooftop. For a few seconds, Ice’s mouth didn’t move against his, and Maverick’s mind shut down. But then when he moved to pull away, Ice’s hands were cupping his face, pulling him into his intoxicating warmth.

Of all the things he’d learned about Ice, learning how he kissed had to be one of his favorites. He kissed like he played football— confidently, with a hungry precision Maverick couldn’t explain, but also unselfishly; a perfect give and take. Maverick nipped at Ice’s bottom lip, and Ice chased his movements. Before long he was threading his hands through Ice’s frosted tips, smiling into the kiss when he coaxed a satisfied sigh out of the blond.

Maverick’s head was spinning, but for once it wasn’t like he was spinning out to sea. He was spinning with happiness, with relief, with pure _joy. _

When they finally broke for air, Maverick grinned before he could stop himself. He knew he must have looked like an idiot, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, breathless.

Ice looked at him steadily, and for a split second Maverick’s heart lurched. Maybe Ice had just wanted to comfort him, maybe this didn’t mean anything. Fuck, only Ice could make him feel this worried.

“Can’t be longer than I’ve wanted to,” Ice admitted quietly. His eyes were clear like the ocean at sunrise, and Maverick saw his own joy reflected in Ice’s gaze. He let out a small chuckle, and Maverick joined him, biting his lip to keep him from grinning again.

“I know you’re scared,” Ice said, almost inaudibly. He silenced Maverick’s indignant protest with a raised brow. “But _nothing _is going to happen to you while I’m here, okay?”

Maverick nodded slowly. He trusted Ice. And that meant, for the first time ever, Maverick trusted that he’d be okay. That he wouldn’t suffer the fate of becoming the next victim of his father’s reputation.

“Say what’s on your mind, Mitchell,” Ice chuckled, seeing the wheels still turning in the younger man’s mind.

“I uh… should probably quit while I’m ahead here, but I just…” Maverick started, chuckling to himself. Fuck, he was really out of practice here. Not that he’d ever had this kind of conversation with anyone. “If this is a one-time thing for you—”

“It’s not,” Ice said immediately, irrevocably.

And with that quiet confession, spoken between two breathless souls on a rooftop in downtown Los Angeles, Maverick knew he’d never want anything more, never want anyone else but Ice.

***

When Ice and Maverick finally made their way back to their room, it was nearly dawn. Luckily, the bus was only due to take them back to Miramar at around noon. As the pair turned the corner onto the hallway where all their team’s rooms were on, they saw Hollywood tiptoeing out of the room where Wolf was staying. He’d stuffed his sleep shirt into his bright blue boxers and had his slippers in his hands. Maverick and Ice exchanged an amused glance.

Hollywood clicked the door shut ever so carefully, sticking a tongue out for good measure. As he turned to begin walking the few yards to their room, he spotted his teammates staring at him from down the hall.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” Maverick said, stifling a laugh.

“I didn’t see anything,” Ice said, rolling his eyes. “Just get your ass into the room.”

“Thank God,” Hollywood said. He must have really been flustered, because he didn’t even question why Ice and Maverick were out in the hallway just before sunrise.

As Ice was heading to their door, Maverick tugged him back gently and pulled him in for one more kiss. Ice smiled against the brunet’s lips.

“Mav-_erick_?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Ice said softly.

His tone acknowledged how complicated everything was, how _difficult_ it would be for _whatever_ this was between them to exist. But just like Ice made him a better player on the pitch, the confidence in Ice’s expression bolstered Maverick’s own.

Maverick felt like he could take on the world and win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY DID IT! I hope it was worth it >.< That whole scene with Ice and Mav on the rooftop took me forever to write… It’s almost like they wanted me to postpone their kiss another chapter but I was like ugh NO this is happening NOW. 
> 
> Also, no I did not forget to show what was actually in Duke’s letter. I figured there was already a lot of flashback/Duke Mitchell content in this chapter, so I'm saving the letter for later.
> 
> And yeah… those chat room scenes were really what got away from me haha. Some of my favorite fics are chat room-style fics (including TWS’ Another Plane of Shambles and slyther_ing’s The Fault in Our Chat Logs series -- both non-Top Gun), and I thought I’d take a stab at it here. And boy was it fun. I might continue adding chat room scenes here and there in future chapters bc they're really fun (and funny) to write (unless folks hate them lol). 
> 
> Footnotes-  
*This is a made-up correctional facility  
**I just thought I’d keep going with made-up college/university names lol


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1) I've been working on this chapter for what feels like years lol. The last few chapters flew out of me but I hit a serious roadblock with this one. 
> 
> 2) This was my FIRST time writing smut and boy was it rough, hence the slightly shorter chapter. I TRIED okay. Also, I changed the rating to explicit, because, yeah. 
> 
> 3) At this point I'm just using Wolf's character as a stress outlet. What can I say, he's a straight menace.

Maverick took off his aviators and grinned in the soft San Diego sunlight. It was the morning after they’d returned to Miramar, and Maverick was standing on the curb outside of Ice’s dorm. He tucked his hands into his leather jacket, leaning back against his motorcycle.

He’d texted Ice early, even before dawn, to see if he’d be up to see him. Maverick had debated waiting until later that night so he wouldn’t seem too over-enthusiastic, but he knew Ice woke up at 5am every morning, and he figured that getting out early while the campus was still sleepy would be a sure bet that no one would notice them. Besides, Maverick was pretty sure he was beyond pretending that he didn’t have it hard for the blond.

As he waited, he found himself worrying that Ice wouldn’t show up. Maybe he was coming on too strong. His eyes lit up like Christmas morning when he saw the striker emerge from the building, clad in a navy shirt, green bomber jacket and jeans.

Fuck, he looked good. Maverick barely stopped himself from walking up to him and continuing where they’d left off on the rooftop. 

“Little early for you, isn’t it?” Ice smirked, eyes intoxicatingly confident.

“Early bird catches the worm, they say,” Maverick responded, grinning.

“Am I the worm?” Ice asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, okay, it sounded much better in my head… but yeah, sure,” the brunet said, scrunching his face up as he completed his sentence.

“If you were going for a secret rendezvous, I’m pretty sure you woke up the entire dorm with your motorcycle,” Ice continued.

Maverick’s eyes widened comically, and Ice chuckled. Maverick knew he’d love the sound of that forever.

“Relax, Mitchell,” Ice said amusedly. “I’m joking.”

“Just for that, I’m taking the long way there.”

“You’re taking me on your motorcycle?” Ice scoffed.

Maverick smirked devilishly. “You know it.”

Ice rolled his eyes, but when Maverick handed him a helmet, he took it without hesitation.

***

If kissing Ice was the best thing in the world, feeling him molded into his back as his motorcycle ripped down the streets of San Diego came pretty close. Maverick could feel the vibrations of Ice’s chest as he laughed, deep and genuine. He was surprised that Ice wasn’t fazed by how fast he was going; he remembered the first time he’d taken Goose on his motorcycle – his best friend had screamed like a banshee, attracting every glare within a 10-mile radius.

Though Maverick kept his promise and took the scenic route — yeah, at this point he was just showing off — he did know exactly where he was going. He’d made a plan, which was unusual for him. But he really didn’t want to mess this up.

He parked on the curb next to a small, cozy diner a comfortable distance away from the edge of campus. It was far enough away from the college bustle that Maverick saw no Miramar shirts around. He’d come here with Goose on the first morning he’d arrived at Miramar, and the moment he’d walked in, a couple sitting at the counter had recognized him from TV. They stared at him—more like _glared _at him—and whispered to each other suspiciously. Maverick had been nervous at first, had almost asked Goose if they could leave, but the diner owner—Huck, his name was—took them aside and told them that if anyone, _anyone, _gave them trouble inside the diner, they need only let him know and he’d take care of it. Turns out he’d recognized Maverick too, but had only sympathy for his plight. Endeared by Huck’s support, Maverick had vowed to return as much as he could, but once classes had started he’d only managed to come back once or twice.

Maverick saw Huck at the counter when he entered, and the man—tall, heavy-set and sporting a baseball cap—smiled wide and waved. He nodded cheerfully at Ice, who smiled back, albeit reservedly. Maverick led Ice to a booth at the back of the diner—it wasn’t crowded, but Maverick figured it was probably best to take precautions if they didn’t want their rendezvous publicized to the Miramar student body.

“This okay?” Maverick said, trying to maintain a semblance of confidence.

“More than,” Ice said simply, looking around. “Never been here. Slider and I used to practice in the fields just up the street.”

“I like that it’s hidden away a little bit.”

“Thought you’d be more of a _center of attention _kind of guy. Figured you’d take me to Joe’s,” Ice smirked. Joe’s was a diner smack in the middle campus, known for being open early enough to welcome students who were still half-drunk from a night out and open late enough to be a reliable scene for drunken antics and spontaneous karaoke.

“I like my privacy too sometimes,” Maverick shrugged, smiling at Ice knowingly.

They placed their orders—Maverick a milkshake and pancakes, Ice a cappuccino and French toast.

They fell into conversation easily, like they always did. Maverick found himself complaining about the upcoming midterms, and wasn’t surprised to hear that Ice had already been studying for weeks. Maverick didn’t like to think about it much, because there was so much about Ice that contradicted his callsign, but the blond _did _live up to his reputation. He was never fazed, neither by his studies nor by football, and always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone without making a big show of it. He was precise, exacting, hard-working, in ways that Maverick could never even aspire to.

And as he listened to Ice talk, Maverick couldn’t help but see him in a new light now he knew what it felt like to kiss him, to hold him. He noticed more intimate things now – the way he bit his lip when lingering on a thought, the way his eyes squinted a little when something irritated or confused him. Maverick wished he’d kissed Ice before heading into the diner – he wanted so badly to lean across the table and pull him in. It was a hunger he’d never felt before, for anyone. It was more than just a desire to kiss him. It was just a desire to be around him, to be near him.

“So…” Maverick started slowly. “I didn’t… really know where I was going with this date, to be honest. I just knew I wanted to see you after the other night.” Despite his best efforts to fake a typical Maverick-style confidence, his nerves seeped into his words.

Ice smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Do I make you nervous?”

With all the vulnerability Ice had shown him, he was still as confident as they came.

“Not a chance, Kazansky,” Maverick shot back, smirking.

A silence slipped in between them then, a small acknowledgement that the conversation was shifting.

“I wasn’t sure you felt the same way…” Maverick started softly.

“I held your hand on the bus,” Ice responded. “Thought that was a giveaway.”

A chuckle escaped Maverick and Ice smirked.

“Okay, _that _kind of gave it away, but it wasn’t obvious before that,” Maverick laughed, his smile bright.

Ice nodded slowly, and Maverick watched his movements. They were deliberate, calculated, but at the same time unquestionably honest.

The blond sighed quietly—but not unkindly—and broke eye contact with Maverick, who chase his gaze.

“I didn’t plan on it, really.”

Maverick blinked, caught off guard. His heart started racing unreasonably fast.

“I mean… if you regret it, it’s fine, this doesn’t have to be—”

“I don’t _regret _it, Maverick,” Ice said softly, gently. “I said I didn’t _plan_ on it.”

“Didn’t plan on me?”

“Yeah,” Ice whispered. “Didn’t plan on any of this.”

“But you… _don’t _regret it?”

“Not even a little.”

Maverick paused, sensing there was more that Ice wanted to say. But the blond simply looked at him, eyes open and vulnerable, so raw that Maverick wanted to drown in them.

“I didn’t really plan this either,” Maverick said, surprising himself with how soft his voice was to his own ears. “But I like you. A lot. And I know it’s difficult, because… I’m Duke Mitchell’s son, and…”

He was losing confidence quickly. Why the hell did he think this could work? He was Duke Mitchell’s _son. _That wasn’t exactly a selling point, especially for someone like Ice who could pretty much get anyone he wanted.

But when Ice took his hand on the table and cupped it between his palms, Maverick took pause.

“Maverick,” Ice said, his tone laced with a plea. “That’s not what I _meant_. It’s not _you. _I don’t care about your reputation.”

“What are you worried about then?”

“Me.”

“You? What do you me—”

“My father,” Ice said, lowering his voice into a barely audible whisper. Maverick had never heard him sound so uncertain. “He’d… God knows what he’d do to you…”

Maverick blinked. He’d been so focused on the prospect of protecting Ice from any and all fallout of being associated with him that it hadn’t even occurred to him that Ice was worried because he wanted to protect_ Maverick_.

“I don’t care about your father,” Maverick said instantly. “He doesn’t have to find out. No one has to. I like you, and I want this with you. If you want this too.”

Ice blinked, still looking uncharacteristically doubtful. But when Maverick squeezed his hand, their eyes met, Ice’s grazed his teeth over his bottom lip, and then his blue eyes lit up with a fierce joy that made Maverick’s heart sing.

“Fuck it,” Maverick said, smirking after glancing around quickly. The diner was empty enough. He got up and slid into Ice’s booth, and Ice surprised him by meeting him halfway. He captured Ice’s lips in his own, and Maverick felt all his fears melt away.

Ice smiled against his lips, and Maverick held him close.

When both of their phones buzzed on the table at the same time, then again, and again, Maverick rolled his eyes.

“I guess the gang is awake.”

***

**MotherGoose: **RISE & SHINE ALL, HANGOVER TOWN IS REAL

**Hollywood_Neven: **the all caps are hurting my eyes

**ChipChipper: **I smell coffee god BLESS whoever made it

**Hollywood_Neven: **you’re welcome

**RKerner: **Speaking of parties, are we all heading down to the marina tonight? The lacrosse team’s hosting a rager

**ChipChipper: **Down!

**Maverick10: **Goose and I are in

**CougarBill: **Same

**RKerner: **We should plan to carpool though, probably easiest. We could meet at the quad at 9ish?

**HowdyWolf: **GOOD MORNING Y’ALLLLLL

**ChipChipper: **Yeah that works, could we meet at the cafeteria instead? Sundown and I will be down there for dinner.

**RKerner: **Yeah okay does that work for everyone?

**HowdyWolf: **GOOD MORNING Y’ALLLLLL

**HowdyWolf: **@RKerner Come on man no good morning??

_RKerner removed HowdyWolf from the chat._

**RKerner: **As I was saying

**Maverick10: **I JUST DIED

**MotherGoose: **Fucking savage

**RKerner: **AS I WAS SAYING BOYS, we should plan to meet outside the dining hall no later than 9

**ChipChipper: **Works for me and Sundown!

**MiramarTex: **Yeah I’m in

_Hollywood_Neven added HowdyWolf to the chat._

**MerlinsBeard: **LOL FUCKING WHIPPED

_Hollywood_Neven removed MerlinsBeard from the chat. _

**MiramarTex: **Oh god I can’t breathe

**IceKazansky: **Jesus this better not be canceling out years of team-building exercises we’ve done

_IceKazansky added MerlinsBeard to the chat._

**IceKazansky:** Can we all fucking play nice

**HowdyWolf: **Great idea! Let’s start with a simple good morning J

**RKerner: **I swear to god Leonard

**MerlinsBeard: **You fucking suck LEONARD

**HowdyWolf: **I can’t with y’all! I was just tryina say GOOD MORNING

**HowdyWolf: **Hollywood has informed me that I’ll be sleeping on the couch if I continue down this route so I’ll shut up now

**RKerner: **God give me strength

**Maverick10: **I can’t handle this I need to put my phone away. Slider I’m good with whatever plans you make *cry-laughing emoji*

**RKerner: **This is taking years off of my life

**RKerner: **We are all meeting up at the fucking cafeteria at 9pm sharp. Anyone who is late has to work out their own fucking transport. Jesus fucking Christ.

***

“Fucking children,” Ice muttered, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Your job to keep them in check, Mr. Vice-Captain,” Maverick joked.

Ice shook his head in exasperation.

“So… question for you,” Maverick said, a smile spreading across his face.

“Mhmm?”

“Goose spent the night at Carole’s, and they’re out all day today, so I have the room to myself…”

Ice smiled, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, if you want to—”

“Jesus, Maverick,” Ice laughed, before leaning in ever so slightly. His tongue grazed his lip ever so slightly, and Maverick felt desire shoot through him. “_Yes, _I want to. Let’s get the check and get out of here.”

“Nah we don’t need the check,” Maverick waved it off, slipping out of the booth. “I paid for us when I went to the bathroom.”

“What?”

Maverick looked down at the blond, who hadn’t moved and was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“You can get the next one.”

Ice shook his head again. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Bullshit, Kazansky,” Maverick said, grinning from ear to ear as he slipped his aviators back on. “You’re going to be the death of _me._”

***

Maverick took the roundabout way home, trying to avoid busy streets, especially as the campus was waking up now. He slipped his bike carefully into the parking lot behind his dorm, trying to rationalize everything in his head. Plenty of people knew that he and Ice were close. It wouldn’t be unusual to see them together. But now, Maverick—who never thought twice about much and worried little about anything—felt a desperate need to protect Ice, to protect _this. _

When they finally made it to his dorm, Maverick watched as Ice observed his and Goose’s room, looking amusedly at the pictures stuck on the wall and the posters of Formula One cars, MLS players, and—courtesy of Goose—various Naruto characters.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess,” Maverick said, having the decency to be a little embarrassed. He hadn’t made his bed—his mind had been preoccupied that morning and he hadn’t even considered that he might bring Ice back.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you and Mother Goose,” Ice said, looking at the photos on Goose’s desk.

It felt strange but weirdly comforting having Ice there, in his space. Ice was like the calm to Maverick’s storm—he had been since the day Maverick met him.

“You ride horses?” Ice asked, pointing at a picture of Maverick, Goose, and Carole, beaming from ear to ear on horseback.

“That was my first time, and it sucked!” Maverick exclaimed, thinking back to his disastrous first horse-riding lesson with Carole and Goose, which ended with him spending two hours on the floor nursing a sprained ankle.

“Well, yeah, you can’t wear sneakers to ride a horse,” Ice scoffed. “You need a good pair of riding boots.”

“You ride?”

“I used to with with my mom,” Ice said. 

“Do you still?” Maverick asked, and Ice shook his head and shrugged. “I heard there are some riding schools around here, so you could when she comes to visit again.”

“No, that’s my stepmom. The one who comes to visit with my dad,” Ice said, and Maverick could sense something in his tone had shifted though the blond was turned away from him toward the wall.

“Oh,” Maverick blinked. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“No,” Ice shrugged. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Does your mom live around here?”

Ice turned to face him now, his eyes a little wary, but not of Maverick. Maverick would typically rush to fill the silence, but he let it stretch this time. 

“She left last year,” he said after a heavy minute had passed.

“Oh,” Maverick responded, taking a step closer to Ice but resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

“Sort of a last straw kind of thing with my father,” Ice continued slowly, as if he was choosing every word deliberately. “They got divorced, she left to Europe, and I haven’t seen her since.”

Maverick blinked, and Ice avoided his gaze. 

“Have you tried reaching out?” Maverick asked.

“Yeah,” Ice said, shrugging again. “My sisters needed her, they’re younger than I am. But I never found out where she went, and she never reached out. Eventually I stopped.”

“Did… did your father… was he abusive?” Maverick asked before he could help himself. He hoped the question wasn’t too personal. But he had to know. Because if Ice’s father had been abusive to his mother, then God knows what he could do to Ice. And Maverick couldn’t stomach the idea of that.

Ice shook his head, though slowly. He looked up so his eyes met Maverick’s, and Maverick was shocked by the strength in them.

“He never laid a hand on her… not that I saw, anyway. They fought a lot. It was unhealthy. I always thought they should get it over with and get the divorce… I just didn’t think she’d just…” Ice trailed off.

Maverick moved forward and cupped the back of Ice’s neck, leaning up to kiss him. Ice relaxed and Maverick nipped gently at his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” Maverick whispered against Ice’s lips. “Thank you for telling me.”

Ice nodded, and Maverick pressed his forehead against the blond’s. Maverick felt himself drowning in Ice’s warmth, and he couldn’t help but think that _yeah, _maybe every nightmare he’d ever had was worth it if they had all led him to this moment. He knew he’d never let anyone take this away from him. 

Their lips found each other again, with more intensity this time. Maverick felt a sudden _need_ pool in his stomach, and he maneuvered Ice until his back was flush against the wall. Ice grinned, and before Maverick could think, the taller man had flipped them and now it was his back being slammed gently against the doorframe. Maverick moaned softly into the kiss, and Ice lifted his hands to let Maverick pull his shirt off. Maverick’s shirt followed.

“Fuck,” Maverick muttered under his breath. He felt like he was on fire as he pressed his body against Ice’s, a desperation he couldn’t control taking over. He’d been waiting much too long for this.

Ice offered no resistance. Maverick pushed himself off the wall and led Ice to the bed, managing not to break their kiss as they fell onto the mattress. They both groaned as they felt their clothed erections rub against each other, and Ice fumbled to get Maverick’s belt off.

A breathy moan escaped Ice’s lips when Maverick latched his mouth onto his neck. The brunet smirked, loving the sound of it.

“Careful,” Ice muttered a warning, and Maverick knew instantly what he meant. No marks.

Maverick nodded and was about to kiss Ice again when he felt the blond’s hand wrap around his cock, stroking it with a deftness that sent intense pleasure rippling up his spine. He dropped his head back on the bed, letting out a silent gasp.

Ice got Maverick’s jeans and boxers off while his hand worked at the brunet’s length, his thumb rubbing against the head of Maverick’s cock teasingly.

“Ice,” Maverick muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. And then the blond’s hand left his cock and he felt Ice climb over him. He opened his eyes in time for Ice to capture his lips again. In that time, Ice had removed his own khakis and briefs, which were now slung over Maverick’s desk chair.

Maverick looked hungrily at Ice’s cock, which was hard and leaking. Ice smirked like a shark bearing teeth as he leaned down to press their cocks against each other. Maverick bit back another moan.

“You like that?” Ice asked against his ear, and Maverick responded with a desperate nod.

Maverick rutted up against Ice, meeting his gentle thrusts halfway.

“Have you…?” Maverick asked breathlessly, looking up at Ice, their eyes finding each-other again.

“Yeah,” Ice asked, blinking. Maverick noticed that his pupils are blown with desire, and the sight turned him on even more.

“Okay, yeah,” Maverick said. “Me too. But not… I’ve only bottomed… I don’t really know…”

_Nice move, Maverick, _he thought to himself._ Admit that you’ve only ever had sex once with a guy and you have no clue what you’re really doing. That’ll really impress Ice. _

Ice didn’t miss a beat, pulling Maverick up and rubbing their noses together.

“That’s okay,” he said. “I can show you. And we don’t have to if you don’t—”

“Oh I _do,_” Maverick insisted, chuckling. “If that wasn’t already obvious.”

Ice smiled, surprisingly tender, and laid Maverick back down.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, looking at Maverick with a sudden sobriety about him.

Maverick nodded.

“Yeah, Ice. I want this. Want _you._”

Ice nodded slowly, and as their bodies found each other again, Maverick relished in the feeling of Ice’s muscles rippling with desire as he responded to every one of Maverick’s touches. Maverick wrapped his hand around Ice’s cock, and reveled in the moan he was able to rip out of Ice’s throat.

Maverick kissed down the expanse of Ice’s tanned chest, sucking on a nipple. Ice muttered a profanity, and Maverick did it again.

“Fuck, _fuck,_” Ice whispered.

With Ice distracted, Maverick maneuvered the blond’s pliant body and, without warning, licked a stripe up Ice’s cock before wrapping his lips around it.

Maverick felt the muscles in Ice’s hips clenching, and he knew the blond was trying hard not to push up too hard into Maverick’s mouth. Maverick sucked Ice’s cock, fluttering his tongue around the base and up to the head. Ice’s hands found Maverick’s hair, and he pulled gently but encouragingly.

“Mav-_erick,_” Ice moaned, and the sound of Ice uttering his callsign in pleasure almost had Maverick coming embarrassingly early. “That feels so good.”

Maverick hummed, feeling the vibrations it shot up Ice’s body.

“Shit,” Ice said, pulling back suddenly. The blond’s cock slipped out of Maverick’s mouth with a pop. “You need to stop or I’m going to come, and I want to do that when I’m inside you. If you still want—”

“Fuck,” Maverick said, before nodding. Ice looked fucking _intoxicating – _his eyes were blown with lust, his usually-perfect hair tousled in a way Maverick had never seen before, and his lips red and bitten. “Yeah, _yes. Please._”

Without prompting, Maverick fumbled with his desk drawer and grabbed the lube and pack of condoms he kept there and tossed them to Ice.

The blond shifted Maverick on the bed and maneuvered the smaller man’s legs onto his shoulders. Ice leaned forward and captured Maverick’s lips in one more kiss before he grabbed the small bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount onto his fingers.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Ice said, looking at Maverick with a seriousness that he was surprised by. “I know you’ve done it before, but it can hurt if you haven’t for a while… so just… if it hurts, tell me right away.”

Maverick nodded. “’Course.”

Ice trailed a finger down his perineum, and circled his hole. When he pressed one finger into Maverick’s warmth, the brunet gasped. Ice pressed his finger in up to the knuckle, and seeing no pain in Maverick’s expression, began pumping in and out slowly.

“_Fuck,_” Maverick hissed. “Ice, _Ice, more._”

Ice didn’t miss a beat, adding a second finger and scissoring Maverick open. He pinched his nipple sharply and Maverick keened, arching off the bed with a whimper. When Ice curled his fingers and found Maverick’s prostate, Maverick shivered and started to moan with every thrust.

Ice leaned down to capture Maverick’s mouth, a new type of hunger infiltrating their kiss. Ice added a third finger and started fucking Maverick’s hole, now slick with lube. Maverick drowned his gasps into the kiss, bucking his hips shamelessly to meet Ice’s thrusts. His lewd moans bounced off the dorm room walls, and Maverick was grateful that his and Goose’s room was located in the corner with no other rooms sharing the same wall.

“You ready?” Ice asked, slipping the condom on and leaning forward to take Maverick in an embrace.

Maverick shivered in Ice’s arms, and the blond pressed his forehead against Maverick’s, their sweat mingling. Maverick had never felt this safe before – had never been intimate with anyone like _this_. Ice’s aching sureness and his reckless energy intertwined like thunder and the rain, and he felt his heart swelling with much more than just desire.

“Yes,” Maverick responded. “I want you inside me, Ice.”

Maverick thought he heard Ice bite back a choked noise, but before he could think on it he felt the head of Ice’s cock rubbing against his hole. Impatient, he gripped Ice’s hips and pushed back onto his cock, filling himself to the hilt. They both moaned obscenely.

“_Shit!_” Ice moaned—in Maverick’s lust it almost sounded like a sob.

“Come on, Ice,” Maverick whispered, watching Ice’s muscles clench as the blond was no doubt trying to get himself back under control. “Fuck me.”

Ice chuckled, suddenly, rolling his eyes as Maverick smirked at him. They would always meet each other challenge for challenge. Ice bit his lip, _hard, _pulled all the way out of Maverick and slammed back in.

Maverick couldn’t control the whine that escaped his lips. Ice set a brutal pace, and Maverick encouraged him with exclamations of _harder, faster, yes, more. _When Maverick hissed after a particularly hard thrust of Ice’s hips, the blond stilled and then slowed his pace.

“You okay?” Ice asked, brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” Maverick whispered breathlessly. “You feel so fucking good, Ice.”

Ice smiled, his eyes blazing like a blue fire, before his face contorted in pleasure again as Maverick clenched around his cock. Maverick pulled him down and their mouths met in a rough kiss, all wetness and teeth and tongue and _perfection. _

“Can you come for me, Maverick?” Ice asked, leaning in to whisper the words against Maverick’s earlobe, sending shivers up his spine. He grinded his hips down, and Maverick groaned, nodding his head quickly.

Maverick felt his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach like a wave, and Ice closed his mouth over his for a perfectly timed kiss as a scream ripped through Maverick’s throat when he found his release.

With Maverick still high on his orgasm, Ice gripped the brunet’s hips and sped up his thrusts again, now chasing his own.

“Come on Ice,” Maverick said, still wanting to challenge the blond.

Ice’s groans graduated into moans, and Maverick looked up at him, still gasping for air. It still floored him how fucking good Ice looked, head thrown back, frosted tips darkened with sweat, blush fierce on his cheeks.

When Ice came with Maverick’s name on his breath, Maverick caught him as he buckled onto his chest.

After a few moments listening to each other’s breathing slow down, Ice pressed a kiss into Maverick’s hair and rolled onto his back beside him.

“That was fucking incredible,” Maverick said, shaking his head almost in disbelief.

Ice’s hand found his under the flat sheet, and their fingers intertwined tightly.

“I told you you’d be the death of me,” Ice said, and out of the corner of Maverick’s eyes he could see the smile spreading across his face.

***

Maverick and Ice hung out in the room for another half hour, exchanging banter before heading into the shower — Ice had insisted jokingly on showering alone but didn’t protest when Maverick wrapped his hands around his waist under the showerhead.

They were supposed to meet Slider and the rest of the crew at the cafeteria at 9pm, and Ice was getting ready to leave so he could finish up a few errands before dinner.

“So…” Maverick started as Ice tied his shoes. “We’re keeping this a secret?”

Ice looked at him for a while, his gaze measured but no less honest than it had been with Maverick since their kiss on the rooftop. “I’d like to.”

Maverick nodded, but something in his gut twisted – and he couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. He agreed with Ice, after all. The last thing he’d ever want was the media to eat Ice alive when they found out they were involved. That could easily ruin both of their playing careers. It would be too risky not to keep it a secret.

“If that’s okay with you,” Ice added slowly. Worriedly.

Maverick nodded immediately. “Yeah, I mean… I think we should.”

“Goose knows, though,” Maverick added, only just remembering. “Well, he knows I like you.”

“Oh yeah, Slider knows too,” Ice said.

“That I like you?”

“No, that _I _like _you._”

Maverick raised an eyebrow and lifted himself up onto his elbows from where he was laying on the bed.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Ice shrugged. “I mean, he's one of the only people who knows I'm bi. I guess he's suspected it for a while, and confronted me about it a few weeks ago. I denied it but Slider’s not an idiot.”

Maverick muffled a laugh into the pillow and Ice snorted.

“They wouldn’t break our trust,” the blond shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind them knowing.”

“Okay,” Maverick said, nodding.

Ice got to his feet then and Maverick swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Ice said, smiling. Maverick couldn’t get over how beautiful he was when he smiled – so full of hope, and joy, and everything Maverick wanted in his life and hadn’t had enough of since that fateful day a year ago.

“See you,” Maverick said, cupping Ice’s chin in one hand and leaning up for a kiss before Ice turned to the door.

“Hey, Mav?” Ice asked, glancing back suddenly.

“Mhm?”

“You make me really happy,” Ice said, and before Maverick could respond the blond had disappeared out of the room.

Maverick’s grin didn’t leave his face for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know how I feel about this chapter. It sort of wrote itself but at the same time was quite the struggle. I have the next few chapters outlined and hope that they'll be a little easier to churn out. 
> 
> Feel free to catch me on tumblr @beside-thedyingfire !


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